The three friends stood upon the pavement watching the little brougham until it disappeared round the corner in a flickering glitter of light. It would have been in accordance with precedent if after leaving the restaurant they had gone to some one of their clubs to smoke a cigar and drink whisky and apollinaris, while Harcutt retailed the latest society gossip, and Densham descanted on art, and Wolfenden contributed genial remarks upon things in general. But to-night all three were inclined to depart from precedent. Perhaps the surprising incident which they had just witnessed made anything like normal routine seem unattractive; whatever the reason may have been, the young men were of a sudden not in sympathy with one another. Harcutt murmured some conventional lie about having an engagement, supplemented it with some quite unconvincing statement about pressure of work, and concluded with an obviously disingenuous protest against the tyranny of the profession of journalism, then he sprang with alacrity into a hansom and said goodbye with a good deal less than his usual cordiality. Densham, too, hailed a cab, and leaning over the apron delivered himself of a farewell speech which sounded rather malignant. "You are a lucky beast, Wolfenden," he growled enviously, adding, with a note of venom in his voice, "but don't forget it takes more than the first game to win the rubber," and then he was whirled away, nodding his head and wearing an expression of wisdom deeply tinged with gloom. Wolfenden was surprised, but not exactly sorry that the first vague expression of hostility had been made by the others. "Both of them must be confoundedly hard hit," he murmured to himself; "I never knew Densham turn nasty before." And to his coachman he said aloud, "You may go home, Dawson. I am going to walk." He turned on to the embankment, conscious of a curious sense of exhilaration. He was no _blasé_ cynic; but the uniformly easy life tends to become just a trifle monotonous, and Lord Wolfenden's somewhat epicurean mind derived actual pleasure from the subtle luxury of a new sensation. What he had said of his friends he could have said with equal truth of himself: he was confoundedly hard hit. For the first time in his life he found the mere memory of a woman thrilling; his whole nature vibrated in response to the appeal she made to him, and he walked along buoyantly under the stars, revelling in the delight of being alive.