At which, though she was not much happier than Milly, Grace laughed. “Of course,” she said, “you little goose, the first thing we do everywhere is always to go to bed. We must do that. You may live without going to the theatre,” Grace added philosophically, with a little sigh, “without going into society--but not without going to bed.” Nevertheless it was forlorn to be able to think at nine o’clock of no other way of spending the evening. They occupied a little of the vacant time by ordering tea, for the spoiled dinner had not tempted them; and then sadly enough they put back the letters of introduction into the letter-case. It seemed less probable now somehow, they could not tell why, that the Princess would take any notice of them, or that Lord Conway would carry them off to his house. They put away those passports to society, through which they had seemed to have a momentary glimpse of everything that was splendid. As they did so a little piece of paper fell out. Milly took it up and read it first; then Grace came and looked over her shoulder. It was very inoffensive and unimportant in appearance--a simple address, 3 Grove Road, Hampstead, written in their father’s hand. He had sent, they recollected, for the Directory and taken an address out of it that morning. Could this be where he had been visiting--the suburb in which he had not been able to get a cab? A slight tremor ran over them, a sense of mystery which could scarcely be called disagreeable. Who could it be who lived at 3 Grove Road, Hampstead? And why had he gone the very first day to call there? The girls held their breath. Visions of some old love, far too old to be anything but a memory, came into their minds. They were divided between a little jealousy on their mother’s account and a romantic interest about the unknown. “It is a lifetime since he left England,” said Grace with emphasis. Their imaginations leaped into a whole romantic story. They put back the scribbled address into the letter-case with a sort of awe. They had never been so much interested in their father before. “I wonder who she is,” Milly said softly under her breath. “I wonder if we shall ever see her.” “Whoever she is,” cried Grace, “and whether we see her or not, you must recollect--not a word, not a word to mamma!” “As if I were such a goose!” cried Milly. “But she must be so old--so old! Mamma would not mind.”