"But yes--by all means," she answered, with a lift of her head which suggested to Desmond a jerk on the curb-chain. In moving off together they passed close to Garth. But Quita, who was abstractedly opening and closing her fan, did not seem aware of his presence; and he stood looking after them--nonplussed and inwardly blaspheming. He did not hold the key to this new phase of the situation. Mrs Mayhew--noting his detachment from the Palace group, and quite needlessly alarmed lest politeness should impel him to return to her--sought out a strategic seat near the piano; though in truth Honor Desmond's masterly rendering of Chopin's heroic polonaise was, for her, no more than a complicated tumult of sound without sense, and her wrapt expression resulted from the fact that she was debating whether her _durzi_ could possibly reproduce at sight the subtle simplicity of Mrs Desmond's evening gown. For she had sons growing up at home--this insignificant woman, whose plump proportions and bird-like eyes had earned her the nickname of "the Button Quail"; and even a good appointment did not annul the vagaries of the rupee, which was behaving peculiarly ill just then. In the intervals of imaginary dressmaking, she was enjoying shrewd speculations as to the nature and extent of the budding "affair" between the two at the piano; for her small mind clung tenaciously to the Noah's Ark view of life. Also it seemed that Elsie's own "little affair" was assuming quite a promising aspect. Personally, she disliked the man, but his talent was undeniable. She supposed he must be making money by it; and he was quite clearly making a right-of-way into her daughter's heart. They had drifted apart from the rest without need of spoken suggestion; and now, under cover of Honor's music, which produced a tendency to gravitate towards the piano, the man grew bolder. "There is moonlight out in the courtyard," he said, very low; and he tried, without success, to look into her eyes. "_Que dites-vous_? Shall we go?" She did not answer at once. A new spirit of boldness was awake in her, urging her to take hold of her golden hour with both hands, nothing doubting. But the man, even when he charmed her most, failed to inspire her trust. And while she stood hesitating, his gaze never left her face. "Are you thinking it would scandalise _la petite mere_?" "It might. She is easily scandalised!" "But you would like to come?" "Yes--I would like to come." "_Eh bien_--that is enough." "Is it?" She looked up at him now with those great, truthful eyes of hers, which he found oddly disconcerting at times. "Enough for me, at all events!" he answered boldly. "Come!" And she came.