Meanwhile the cab was, for Lizzie, a chariot of happiness. He looked splendid to-night, more romantic than he had ever been, with his pointed beard, his armless sleeve buttoned across on to his coat, his top-hat shining, his clothes fitting so perfectly. Poor though he was, he always stood up as smart as anyone, the Duke or Lord John were no smarter. Did he realize, she wondered, that the edge of his hand touched the silk of her dress? Did he notice the absurd way that the pearls jumped up and down on her throat? Did he feel the little shiver of happiness that ran through her body and out at her toes and fingers? The chariot was dark, but beyond it there were piled lighted buildings; before these ran streets that flung dark figures, here one by one, now in throngs, against the glittering colour. She could not believe that anyone there by the lumbering cab could show happiness that could equal hers. Had she been coldly surveying, from the careful distance of an outside observer, these emotions in some other woman she would have demanded her reasons for such expectation of happiness, but it was her very inexperience of any other such affair in her life that allowed her now to rest assured. As he touched her hand to help her into the restaurant she was sure, by the beating of her heart, that she could not be deceived. The restaurant was in Pall Mall, and as she went in she noticed the string of faithful people waiting round the corner of Her Majesty's Theatre; she was glad that there were so many others enjoying themselves to-night. They sat at a little round table on a balcony and below them other happy people were laughing and talking--Flowers, lights, women not so beautiful that they disheartened one, and, from the open windows, a whir, a rattle, a shout, a cry, a bell, a hurdy-gurdy, a laugh--Oh! the world was turning to-night! There was a beautiful dinner, but she was far too happy to eat much. He seemed to understand. They both talked a little, but it was, it appeared, implied between them that their real conversation should be postponed. She was, to herself, an utterly new Lizzie Rand to-night, inarticulate, uncertain, confused. "What's this the papers say about South Africa?" "Yes, it looks as though there were going to be trouble there. But you can trust Milner--a strong man----" "Yes, I suppose so--but it seems a pity that this Conference that they hoped so much from has all fallen through, doesn't it? They do seem obstinate people." "Well, they are. I was out in Pretoria in '95--obstinate as mules. But there won't be much trouble--a troop or two of our fellows have only got to show their faces----" "Yes, of course. Isn't that a pretty woman down there? There to the right--with the black hair and the diamonds--tall--" But tall women with black hair and Boers in South Africa were merely points to catch hold, and, for an instant, the thrill of the contact and the anticipation and the glorious vision of the wonderful future.