He came again the next night, stolid and courteous. To Clorinda's infinite regret her mother had been taken ill and had gone home early in the carriage. It was raining hard. Clorinda would be reduced to a hansom. "They call it the London gondola," she said, "but it is least comfortable when there's most water. You have to be framed in like a cucumber in a hothouse." "Indeed! Personally I never travel in hansoms. And from what you tell me I should not like to make the experiment to-night. Good-bye, Miss Bell; present my regrets to your mother." "Deuce take the donkey! He might at least offer me a seat in his carriage," thought Clorinda. Aloud she said: "Under the circumstances may I venture to ask you to see my mother at the house? Here is our private address. Won't you come to tea to-morrow?" He took the card, bowed silently and withdrew. In such wise the courtship proceeded for some weeks, the invalid being confined to her room at teatime and occupied in picking up bouquets by night. He always came to tea in his cloak, and wore his Ironed Mask, and was extremely solicitous about Clorinda's mother. It became evident that so long as he had the ghost of an excuse for talking of the absent, he would never talk of Clorinda herself. At last she was reduced to intimating that she would be found at the matinée of a new piece next day (to be given at the theatre by a débutante) and that there would be plenty of room in her box. Clorinda was determined to eliminate her mother, who was now become an impediment instead of a pretext. But when the afternoon came, she looked for him in vain. She chatted lightly with the acting-manager, who was lounging in the vestibule, but her eye was scanning the horizon feverishly. "Is this woman going to be a success?" she asked. "Oh, yes," said the acting-manager promptly. "How do you know?" "I just saw the flowers drive up." [Illustration: "_I just saw the flowers drive up._"] Clorinda laughed. "What's the piece like?" "I only saw one rehearsal. It seemed great twaddle. But the low com. has got a good catchword, so there's some chance of its going into the evening bills." "Oh, by the way, have you seen anything of that--that--the man in the Ironed Mask, I think they call him?" "Do you mean here--this afternoon?" "Yes." "No. Do you expect him?" "Oh, no; but I was wondering if he would turn up. I hear he is so fond of this theatre." "Bless your soul, he'd never be seen at a matinée." "Why not?" asked Clorinda, her heart fluttering violently. "Because he'd have to be in morning dress," said the actor-manager, laughing heartily. To Clorinda his innocent merriment seemed the laughter of a mocking fiend. She turned away sick at heart. There was nothing for it but to propose outright at teatime. Clorinda did so, and was accepted without further difficulty.