At this moment, in the first rankling sting of humiliation and despair, he could almost have struck a murderous blow at the man whom fortune had set on such a pinnacle of pride and insolence, as it seemed to his galled fancy. He was not in the mood to be either just or generous, and he saw in Ralph Gowan nothing but a man who had both the power and will to rival him, and rob him of peace and hope forever. If Dolly had been with him, in all probability his wretchedness would have evaporated in a harmless outburst, which would have touched the girl's heart so tenderly that she would have withheld nothing of love and consolation which could reassure him, and so in the end the tempest would have left no wound behind. But as it was left to himself and his imaginings, every thought held its bitter sting. He was, as it were, upon the brink of an abyss. And while this danger was threatening her, Dolly was setting herself steadfastly to her task of entertaining her employer's guests, though it must be confessed that she found it necessary to summon all her energies. She was thinking of Griffith, but not as Griffith was thinking of her. She was picturing him looking desolate among the group round the fire at Bloomsbury Place, or else working desperately and with unnecessary energy amidst the dust and gloom of the dimly lighted office; and the result was that her spirit almost failed. It was quite a relief to encounter Ralph Gowan, as she did, on entering the room: he had seen them all latterly, and could enter into particulars; and so, in her pleasure, it must be owned that her face brightened, just as Griffith had fancied it would, when she shook hands with him. “I did not hear that you were coming,” she said. “How glad I am!” which was the most dangerous speech she could have made under the circumstances, since it was purely on her account that he had diplomatized to obtain the invitation. He did not find it easy to release her hand all at once, and certainly he lighted up also. “Will you let me tell you that it was not Miss MacDowlas who brought me here?” he said, in a low voice; “though I appreciate her kindness, as a grateful man ought. Vagabondia is desolate without you.” She tried to laugh, but could not; her attempt broke off in the unconscious sigh, which always touched him, he scarcely knew why. “Is it?” she said, looking up at him without a bit of the old brightness. “Don't tell them, Mr. Gowan, but the fact is I am desolate without it. I want to go home.” He felt his heart leap suddenly, and before he could check himself he spoke. “I wish--I _wish_,” he said, “that you would let me take you home.” And the simply sounding words embodied a great deal more of tender fancy than a careless observer would have imagined; and Dolly, recognizing the thrill in his voice, was half startled. But she shook her head, and managed to smile.