"I won't go home yet," he muttered. "Len will be cut up; he always is. He's as bad as a father--almost as bad as a mother-in-law. Well, I didn't touch the cards, anyhow. And if it had not been for those two idiots, Ark and Dally, I shouldn't have got so far into the champagne. How bright the stars shine--an unaccountable number of them tonight." Poor Jack! "Never saw such a quantity! No, I won't go home yet. I'll walk it off if I have to walk till tomorrow morning. Where am I? Ah! where is _she_? Thank Heaven, she isn't near me now! I'm glad she's gone; I'm glad I shall never see her any more. I'm not fit to see her; not worthy to touch her hand. But I did touch it," and, with a kind of wonder at his audacity, he stretched out his hand and stared at it under the gas-lamp. Then he walked on perfectly indifferent to the direction, perfectly indifferent to the weariness which was gradually--no, rapidly--coming on him. Just at this time, while he was walking off the drowsy dream that had got possession of him, a stream of carriages was slowly moving down Park Lane, taking up from one of the best known houses in town--Lady Merivale's. Lady Merivale was one of the leaders of _ton_ and had been one as long as most middle-aged people could remember. To be seen at Lady Merivale's was to be acknowledged as one of that small but powerful portion of humanity known as "the upper ten." It was one of her ladyship's grand balls, and not only were the ball and drawing-rooms full, but the staircase also, and any one wishing to enter or exit had to make his way down a narrow line flanked on either side by the youth and nobility of the best kind of society. That it had been a great success no one who knows the world--and Lady Merivale--needs to be told. It had, perhaps, been one of her greatest, for in addition to two princes of the blood royal, she had secured the great sensation of the day, the young millionairess, Lady Isabel Earlsley. And this was no slight achievement, for Lady Bell, as she was generally called, was a wilful, uncertain young personage, from whom it was very hard to procure a promise, and who, not seldom, was given to breaking it when made, at least, so far as acceptation of invitations went. But she was there tonight; as the next issue of the _Morning Post_ would testify. Jack had been really too careless and scornful in his indifference. Lady Bell was not only beautiful, she was--what was more rare than beauty--charming. She was rather short than tall; but not too short. She had a beautiful figure; not a wasp waist by any means, but a natural figure, full of power and grace. Her skin was, well, colonial; delicately tinted and creamy; and her eyes--it is difficult to catalogue her eyes, because their lights were always changing--but the expression which generally predominated was one of half-amused, half-mocking light.