"My dear, one pays for everything. Look at the people who get honours! It will mean, I should say, about three figures to get a well-known name to present her--a titled woman of good standing; and then there will be Lady Leason's present--and the commission..." She knit her brows. "Anyhow, Cydonia's worth it." "That she is--bless her pretty face! She's the crowning gem of my collection! And I mean her to make a fine marriage! If it costs me every penny I've got." He turned his sharp, near-set eyes shrewdly on Helen's countenance. "What's this young man who's always around? McTaggart, I think, is his precious name. A tall fellow with blue eyes and a damned cool manner when I meet him!" "He's all right," said the mother quickly, "and rather useful just now. He's a great friend of Lady Leason's and moves in a very good set." "Well--don't allow any nonsense there. He don't come here to see _me_! And he don't seem to do any work--I can't stand his 'haw, haw' style." The door banged behind him loudly. Mrs. Cadell took up her pen, but held it a moment, absently, gazing out on the Mayfair street, empty at this early hour. Did her daughter like McTaggart? That was the question she asked herself. Was his society the reason that Cydonia of late had seemed to quicken, to lose her slumbering childish calm? And if so...? She frowned at the thought. Then she sighed. Ebenezer was right. But the mother-love warred within her with the ambition of her life. All the happiness she had missed!--she reached for it with nervous hands, longing to pile it, height on height, into the lap of her only child. And, as if her thoughts had drawn the girl, Cydonia, that moment, entered the room. "Am I disturbing you, Madre, dear?" She stood there, radiant, in coat and hat; the fair face full of life, an eager look in the soft brown eyes. There seemed a little suppressed air of excitement in her bearing. Helen stretched out her hand. Her daughter took it indifferently, pressed it lightly and let it fall. "It's just to ask may I go out?--with Mason, of course--to do some shopping?" "Wouldn't you rather wait for me? I shall be ready about twelve." "Well ... you see, Madre,"--a faint flush stole into the clear skin as she spoke. "Christmas is getting very near and I've no presents at all, as yet. And----" a sudden excuse seemed to strike her--"I rather thought ... I'd get yours." "Oh, very well." Helen laughed, "I mustn't trespass on any 'secret.'" Cydonia averted her brown eyes, conscious of a twinge of conscience. "Thank you, Madre, dear." She stooped and kissed her mother gratefully, hesitated for a moment, and breathed an indistinct "Good-bye." But once outside the front door her spirits began to rise. She looked unusually animated, beautiful in her costly furs. The maid shuffled along beside her, a subdued black form of indeterminate shape, rather like an unwilling retriever, dragged by an invisible leash.