"You and Mrs. Harbert have certainly entered into a conspiracy with a view to reducing me to a proper condition of self-depreciation," declared Geoff, smiling at the lofty expression of disdain with which his "Sweet Lady" was still surveying him. He shifted his hat from one hand to the other. "Come out with me, Evarne. Let us go and have something to eat, and then on to a theatre or somewhere, eh?" "I've still got the tiniest little headache; I would rather not," she declared. "Good-bye, dearest." Then, correcting herself somewhat wildly: "No, no. I didn't mean good-bye--only good-night! Don't speak ill-omened words, Geoff. Only say good-night." At length he was gone. Evarne pressed her hand to her forehead. This unexpected visit had both weakened and strengthened her. After a few minutes she went upstairs to change her dress. Hearing the approaching steps, Philia, who was in her own room tying on her bonnet, called out, and as the girl entered she inquired-- "Are yer any 'appier now, my pet? Is it all right?" "You really are fond of me, aren't you, Philia?" queried Evarne meditatively, without replying to the question she had been asked. Then, without waiting for any response to her own demand, she went on: "Would you mind doing a little errand for me? The classes at the 'Poly' end at ten, don't they? Will you go afterwards to Edith Gordon's and ask her for the blouse pattern she promised to lend me? It isn't very far out of your way, and you can stop and have a chat if she is in, can't you?" "Right yer are," assented Philia cordially, and five minutes later the door had closed behind her. At length the coast was quite clear for Morris's visit. Evarne carefully studied her three tea-gowns. It was an important point. The green one was a great favourite with everybody, but it was undeniably getting old. The crimson cashmere with the black lace suited her splendidly, but both colour and material looked rather heavy for such hot weather. The pale yellow was the most suitable, and she would wear a harmonising cluster of sweet-peas. Although every nerve in her body seemed to be now on edge, she did not neglect the least detail of her toilette, and at its completion could not but realise that she was indeed fair to behold. She had quite got back her colour, and that peculiar sparkling brilliance that was her characteristic beauty. Her luxurious dark hair, faintly scented and piled high upon her head, was held in place by ornamental combs. Long enamel earrings, gleaming blue and green, served to emphasise the soft carnation bloom of the cheeks they hung against, while a brooch of the same iridescent tones held together the lace at the point of the V-shaped opening of her gown. Then she put her diamond engagement ring upon her finger, and, after a final critical gaze into the mirror, descended the stairs. There she drew the blinds and lit the lamp. It was five minutes past eight. She sat down and waited.