The two ladies were on the threshold of Cecil's room as Florence asked this question. They went into the luxurious little retreat, where the fire and candles were always burning as brightly as if they had been watched by some genius of comfort rather than by an ordinary attendant. Mrs. Lobyer rang for tea; and then, after flinging herself into one of the low chairs, pulled off her powdered wig with its superstructure of plumes and diamonds. "Oh, how my head aches!" she exclaimed as she loosened her hair and let it fall in a shower upon her shoulders. "I wonder whether real actresses ever feel as I have felt to-night. Do you know that I had a splitting headache before dinner, and that my brain has been throbbing like a steam-engine all the evening. Just put your hand upon my head." Cecil laid her fingers gently upon the fair young head, which was burning with fever. She brought eau-de-cologne from the adjoining room, and bathed her friend's forehead. Mrs. Lobyer's maid appeared while Cecil was doing this. "Let us have some strong green-tea, Martin," said Flo; "and bring me a dressing-gown. I want to get rid of this horrible dress." The maid retired to give her order, and returned almost immediately with a loose garment of white cashmere and quilted satin. She took to pieces the brilliant Pompadour toilette, the diamonds and lace and bouquets and plumes, and removed the useless litter, leaving her mistress wrapped in the dressing-gown, with her fair hair falling about her face and neck. She lay back in her luxurious chair in a listless attitude, looking dreamily at the fire, and did not speak until some little time after the tea-service had been brought. "You are sure that you are not sleepy, Cecil, and that I am not making myself a nuisance?" she said at last. "Quite sure, dear. Shall I pour you out some tea?" "If you please: only it isn't fair that you should wait upon me." "You have so much more reason to be tired than I have." "But I am not in the least tired," exclaimed Flo; "I am only preternaturally awake. And now tell me, Cecil, do you think my evening has been a success?" "I think people enjoyed themselves extremely." "That is no answer, Cecil." "And I think you acted charmingly; indeed every one thought so; but----" "Ah, there it is! I expected the 'but.' What is it, Cecil?" "Am I to be candid, Flory? You know I love you very sincerely, dear; and I want our friendship to be something more than the conventional friendliness of women who praise each other's dresses and bonnets. Am I to speak without reserve?" "Oh yes, if you please," answered Flo, with a sigh of resignation. "I have been doing something dreadful, I suppose?" "I think you know what I am going to say as well as I do, Florence." "Perhaps I do; but you shall say it notwithstanding. What is it?"