But Bobby, after one long look at Harriet Brandt, had already quitted the room. This episode had the effect of destroying Miss Wynward’s appetite. She sat gazing at her plate for a few minutes, and then with some murmured excuse of its being late, she rose and disappeared. The Baroness was some time over her meal, and Harriet had an opportunity to examine the apartment they sat in, as well as the dim light allowed her to do. The walls were covered with oil paintings and good ones, as she could see at a glance, whilst at the further end, where narrow shelves were fixed from the floor to the ceiling, was displayed the famous dinner service of Sèvres, for which the Baroness was said to have bartered the two thousand lease of her house. Harriet glanced from the pictures and the china upon the walls to the steak and bread and cheese upon the table, and marvelled at the incongruity of the whole establishment. Madame Gobelli who, whilst at the Lion d’Or, had appeared to think nothing good enough for her, was now devouring fried steak and onions, as if they had been the daintiest of fare. But the champagne made amends, on that night at least, for the solids which accompanied it, and the girl was quite ready to believe that the poverty of the table was only due to the fact that they had arrived at the Red House unexpectedly. As they reached the upper corridor, her host and hostess parted with her, with much effusion, and passing into their own room, shut the door and locked it noisily. As Harriet gained hers, she saw the door opposite partly unclose to display poor Bobby standing there to see her once again. He was clothed only in his long night-shirt, and looked like a lanky ghost, but he was too childish in mind to think for one moment that his garb was not a suitable one for a lover to accost his mistress in. She heard him whisper her name as she turned the handle of her own door. “Why, Bobby,” she exclaimed, “not in bed yet?” “Hush! hush!” he said in a low voice, “or Mamma will hear you! I couldn’t sleep till I had seen you again and wished you good-night!” “Poor dear boy! Are you not very hungry?” “No, thanks. Miss Wynward is very kind to me. She has seen after that. But to leave without a word to you. That was the hard part of it!” “Poor Bobby!” ejaculated Harriet again, drawing nearer to him. “But you must not stay out of bed. You will catch your death of cold!” “Kiss me then and I will go!” He advanced his face to the opening of the door, and she put her lips to his, and drew his breath away with her own. “Good-night! good-night!” murmured Bobby with a long sigh. “God bless you! good-night!” and then he disappeared, and Harriet entered her own room, and her eyes gleamed, as she recognised the fact that Bobby also was going to make a fool of himself for her sake.