They were at the door. He had opened it for her, but as she looked up in uttering those words, she paused, subdued by a certain expression in his eyes and mouth. ‘Don’t speak too recklessly of that lady. It will do no good, and you would repent it,’ he remarked. She did not finish her sentence, but swept out of the room, and he gently closed the door after her. He stood in the middle of the room, biting his lip, till Hugo came up to him and took his hand. ‘Dear Sebastian, I wish you success, though, _freilich_, I fancied you would marry Miss Spenceley.’ ‘Why, I wonder?’ asked Sebastian, impatiently. ‘I cannot imagine why I am supposed to be destined for Miss Spenceley, or she for me. She cannot endure me, and makes no secret of her dislike.... ‘You could overcome that,’ suggested his counsellor audaciously. ‘Could I? She is perfectly charming, I don’t wish to deny, but I have loved Adrienne Blisset for years, and I am not going to give her up unless she refuses me.’ ‘Fellows don’t always give up when they are refused,’ suggested Hugo again. ‘Finish your lunch and hold your tongue. What I was going to say is, that my mother is answerable for a great deal of mischief by persisting in marrying me to Miss Spenceley.’ ‘If there had been no such person as you, then there would have been no mischief,’ said Hugo, apparently throwing in the observation between two sips of claret, for he had obediently returned to the table. ‘What do you mean?’ asked his friend, stopping in his promenade between the two windows. ‘I mean what I say.’ ‘Why, do you mean that I have ever encouraged----’ ‘Miss Spenceley? _I, bewahre!_ No. But----’ ‘I shall do you some serious bodily injury if you don’t curb your boundless impertinence. Do you mean that I ever encouraged my mother’s scheme in any way?’ ‘Can’t say. I’ve done. Adieu!’ said Hugo, going out of the room, and singing in an insultingly loud voice-- ‘Willst du dein Herz mir schenken, So fang’ es heimlich an!’ CHAPTER XI. ‘Opportunity is always golden and beautiful. It is the use it is sometimes put to that is--imperfect.’ Sebastian did not find any opportunity that afternoon for carrying out his purpose. He was fully occupied; so was Adrienne, and he was forced to see her, half an hour before he could leave himself, walk away alone in the direction of Blake Street, without having been able to exchange a word with her. This annoyed him, and made him feel nervous and anxious. Three months ago he would, without any inordinate vanity, have felt almost secure of being accepted if he proposed to Adrienne; now he felt very far from sure of it. The unpleasant scene with Mrs. Mallory left him determined to wait no longer, no more to ‘fear his fate too much,’ but ‘to put it to the touch, and win or lose it all,’ that very day, be it early or late.