In this latter estimate he was partly correct. Sappha was as eager and anxious about the visit to the theatre and the naval ball as it was natural a girl of eighteen years old should be, and Leonard had interrupted discussion at a critical point; had put off settlements about dresses and various other important items--and besides this fault had brought into the room with him an atmosphere very different from his usual light-hearted mood, explaining itself by interesting political or social news. For once he was quite absorbed in Leonard Murray, and then nobody seemed to care about Leonard Murray. Mrs. Bloommaert asked him questions about the decorations, and Sappha about the people who were assisting with them, and he simply answered, without adding any of his usual amusing commentaries. In a short time Mrs. Bloommaert left the room, and as the judge appeared to be lost in the sources of the Nile Leonard was practically alone with Sappha. He first asked her to practise some songs with him, but she answered, “The parlour is unwarmed and unlighted, Leonard, and I do not want to take cold, just when the holidays are here.” “Certainly not,” he said, but the refusal was a fresh offence. Why had Sappha not ordered fire and light to be put in the parlour? She usually did. Something was interesting her more than his probable visit--what could it be? Not the theatre--not the naval ball. Sappha was used to such affairs; he had never known them put the whole house out of temper before. For by this time he had decided the atmosphere was one of bad temper, without considering for a moment that it was possibly his own bad temper. Suddenly he rose and said he must go; and no one asked him to remain longer. Sappha felt the constraint of her father’s presence, and did not accompany him to the hall. Mrs. Bloommaert was opening and shutting drawers and doors upstairs, and the judge only gave to his “Good-night, judge,” a civil equivalent in “Good-night, Mr. Murray.” As he was leaving the house he saw Mr. St. Ange approaching it, and instead of advancing to meet him he turned southward towards Stone Street. Of this cowardly step he was soon ashamed, and he went back and forced himself to pass the Bloommaert house. It had a more happy aspect. Some one had stirred the logs, and the dancing flames showed through the dropped white shades. There was a movement also in the room; the sound of voices, and once he could have sworn he heard Sappha laugh. Did he not know her laugh among a thousand? It was like the tinkle of a little bell.