Harry was not a sentimentalist, very far from it; but the restrained dolour of this confession made a curious appeal to him, while, at the same time, the childishness of it exasperated him. Was she not in reality one of the most fortunate women in London that day? Her failure to realise what John Faber's friendship meant was incomprehensible, and yet it could not be disputed that she did fail to realise it. "Look here, Maryska!" he said emphatically, "you don't want me to be angry with you, do you, now?" "No," she said very quickly, "not you, Harry." And she laid her hand in his. He did not repulse her, but went on with the argument. "If you don't want me to be angry, talk sense! Faber has adopted you, and he is one of the richest men in the world. Very well, you'll never want for anything on this planet. You're going into life on a good pitch, and the bowling is bilge. I expect they'll speak of you as a famous heiress presently, and half the men in London be after you! What's the good of romancing, then, or pretending you don't understand? I'm sure you understand just as well as I do--and if it were me, I'd knock up a century, certain! Don't you think you're rather foolish, little Gipsy?" She shook her head, and put her arms about him in a gesture she could not control. "No," she said, "I am very lonely, Harry!"--and she spoke no other word until the cab drove up to the house in Well Walk. III These excursions were no secrets between a boy and a girl, and Maryska would recite every detail of them upon her return to Hampstead. She was spared the necessity upon this occasion by the appearance in the road of another taxi, bringing Silvester and Gabrielle from Stepney. The four met upon the pavement, and immediately fell to a narrative of events. So much had been done, Gabrielle said; it had been a day of triumphs, and they had been achieved by Rupert Trevelle in the face of great odds. Harry looked at his fiancée while she was talking of her success, and he could not but realise that the recent days had changed her greatly. She had won dignity, he thought, and a new outlook upon life, which could not be a transient influence. There was in her manner towards him a sense of superiority, which the inferior intellect resented; while her good-natured badinage upon his "holiday" suggested anew his inability to play any serious part in the grave affairs which now occupied her. But, beyond this, was her utter indifference to his attempts to make her jealous, and he knew that she hardly listened to him when he spoke of Maryska and the theatre. "She wants to be a dancer! Oh! every child wants to be that some time or other. Were you not going to be an engine-driver yourself when you were seven? You told me so." "Yes, but she's a jolly lot more than seven, and if you don't look out, she'll catch and bowl the three of you." "My dear Harry, that is nonsense. Are you going skating to-night?"