But it needed no more. She opened her eyes, and looked at him with a wild sweetness and gratitude which dazzled him, and struck his memory with the thought of the Southern, romantic strain in her. "You are very kind and comforting!" she said; "but then, from the first--somehow--I knew you were a friend to us. One felt it--through all difference." The little sentences were steeped in emotion--emotion springing from many sources, fed by a score of collateral thoughts and memories--with which Tressady had, in truth, nothing to do. Yet the young man gulped inwardly. She had been a tremulous woman till the words were said. Now--strange!--through her very gentleness and gratefulness, a barrier had risen between them. Something stern and quick told him this was the very utmost of what she could ever say to him--the farthest limit of it all. They passed under Charing Cross railway bridge. Beside them, as they emerged, the moon shone out above the darks and silvers of the river, and in front, the towers of Westminster rose purplish grey against a west still golden. "How were things going in the House this afternoon?" she asked, looking at the towers. "Oh! I forgot. You see, the clock says close on eleven. Please let me drop you here. I can manage by myself quite well." He protested, and she yielded, with a patient kindness that made him sore. Then he gave his account, and they talked a little of Monday's division and of the next critical votes in Committee--each of them, so he felt in his exaltation, a blow dealt to her--that he must help to deal. Yet there was a fascination in the topic. Neither could get away from it. Presently, Pall Mall being very full of traffic, they had to wait a moment at the corner of the street that turns into St. James's Square. In the pause Tressady caught sight of a man on the pavement. The man smiled, looked astonished, and took off his hat. Lady Maxwell bowed coldly, and immediately looked away. Tressady recognised Harding Watton. But neither he nor she mentioned his name. In another minute he had seen her vanish within the doors of her own house. Her hand had rested gently, willingly, in his. "I am so grateful!" she had said; "so will Maxwell be. We shall meet soon, and laugh over our troubles!" And then she was gone, and he was left standing a moment, bewildered. Eleven? What had he to do? Then he remembered his pair, and that he had promised to call for Letty at a certain house, and take her on to a late ball. The evening, in fact, instead of ending, was just beginning. He could have laughed, as he got back into his cab. * * * * * Meanwhile Marcella had sped through the outer hall into the inner, where one solitary light, still burning, made a rather desolate dark-in-light through the broad, pillared space. A door opened at the farther side. "Aldous!" "You!"