There was something almost austere in the pose of the head and figure, the lines of the mouth, the look in the wonderful eyes. Those eyes, to a close observer indeed told that Judith had learnt many things, had grown strangely wise these last three months. Yes, she knew now more clearly what before she had only dimly and instinctively felt: the nature and extent of the wrong which had been perpetrated; which had been dealt her; which she in her turn had dealt herself and another person. She stood idly by the mantelpiece, staring at the mass of invitation cards stuck into the mirror above it. One of them told that Lady Kemys would be at home that night in Grosvenor Place at nine o’clock. It was to be a political party, and like all such gatherings would begin early, for which reason she had dressed before dinner. She took the card from its place and read it over. Reuben would be there of course. Well, they would shake hands perhaps; she, for one, would be very amiable; they might even talk about the weather; and would he ask her to have an ice? She put back the card indifferently; it mattered so little. She had been home a month from Italy, and, as it happened, she and Reuben had not yet met. The Lee-Harrisons had dined duly in Kensington Palace Gardens, but Reuben had been unavoidably detained that night at the House. He had called on her some weeks ago, and she had been out. But rumours of him had reached her. He had addressed his constituents with great _éclat_ in the recess, and was already beginning to attract attention from the leader of his party. As for more intimate matters, there were reports current connecting his name with Caroline Cardozo, with Miss Lee-Harrison, and with a chorus girl at the Gaiety. Some people said he was only waiting for old Solomon’s death to marry the chorus girl. The last month, which had been full of new experiences, of social events for Judith, seemed curiously long as she stood there looking back on it. It came over her that she was in a fair way to drift off completely from her own people; they and she were borne on dividing currents. A sudden longing for the old faces, the old ties and associations came over her as she stood there; a strange fit of home-sickness, an inrushing sense of exile. Her people--oh, her people!--to be back once more among them! When all was said, she had been so happy there. A servant entered with a letter. Judith, glancing again at the clock, saw that it was nearly eight, and said, as she opened the envelope, “Has Mr. Lee-Harrison come in?” He had come in half an hour ago, when she had been dressing, and had gone straight to his room. The gong sounded for dinner as the man spoke, and a few minutes afterwards Bertie came tripping in, fully equipped for the festivities of the evening. “Blanche expects us early,” said Judith as she swept across to the dining-room and took her place at the little round table.