‘Geraldine, what has come over you? What is the matter with her, mamma? Has she been crossed in love?’ ‘My dear Maisy, why should you think so?’ ‘There’s something so nasty, and hard, and cynical about her--positively there is, mamma; one always notices these changes when one first comes home more than people who are living in the house.’ ‘I don’t expect you noticed me at all before you went away.’ ‘Oh yes, I did; you were always most interested about my affairs, and anxious to know how Robert had behaved, and what he had said. And I know very well you never spoke in that tone then. You hurt my feelings, Geraldine. I’m not used to cynicism. Robert is so straightforward and manly, he never makes fun of me.’ ‘I wasn’t making fun, I assure you; I think you the most enviable woman in the world; really I do.’ Maisy aggrievedly allowed herself to be kissed, and peace was restored. In the meantime, Mr. Clausen was discussing the subject of his return with Mr. Robert Potter. Clausen began by making the remark, that the last news had led him to believe that they had not proposed returning to England yet. Mr. Potter led Mr. Clausen into the recess of the window and said: ‘The truth is, my wife was most anxious to remain out there. Personally, I hate missing a season; it is like losing sight of a generation in the evolution of the race, one is always looking for the missing link; and the next year one is horribly out of it. However, I got my wife to believe that this was her own feeling, and after two months of delicate manœuvring, I induced her to persuade me to return to England.’ ‘I congratulate you on your patience.’ ‘A capacity for patience is the bulwark alike of the solid Englishman and of the British Constitution. The principle of the Government has always been to acknowledge such and such a move to be a good one, but to take no step in the matter until it is forced upon it from the outside. It endures. I shall endure. What is the use of having such a splendid public constitution if you do not model your own constitution upon it?’ Mr. Clausen laughed; Mr. Potter smiled. They turned away from the window and joined the ladies. * * * * * In a miserable little garret in a small street off the Strand, a young woman lay tossing and turning in her bed; sometimes a little moan escaped her, then she would bury her face in her pillow and break into passionate sobs. As it became light she got up and looked out of the window; she could see a wide expanse of roofs, and in the distant sky the thin lines of white light through the grey river mist. She shuddered at the cold, and crept into bed again. Just as she was falling asleep, a man in evening dress and a loose overcoat of the latest fashion softly entered the room, and she sprang up, saying-- ‘O my George, my dear one, where have you been? I was terrified.’