“Sir Edwin’s motor?” he asked, and she nodded. “Shall I call for you every day?” he said at once. “No. He can’t possibly see me if I go out the other way.” Then she added: “He won’t go on for long. He was there yesterday, but he did not see me; and after today I dare say he will give it up.” Finally she added, with an effort: “I heard this morning the wedding is already fixed for June. It’s to be one of the weddings of the season”; and her lips curled somewhat. “I’m more sorry for her than for you, Hal,” he said quietly. “You’ve a lot of splendid years before you yet. Heaven only knows what’s ahead of her. I doubt he’ll not give her much beside his name for his share of the bargain.” She made no comment, leaning back in her corner, white and tired. It was difficult to imagine anything ever being splendid again just then; or any man ever seeming other than tame, after Sir Edwin’s clever, virile, interesting personality. But Dick had judged wisely in suggesting the trip down East. Anything West would merely have recalled painful memories. The East of London was new to her, and could not fail to be interesting to any one with Hal’s love of her fellows. They went to a large parish hall, where Quin was in charge for a social evening of dancing and music. Factory girls were there in all their tawdry finery to dance; rough, boisterous youths mostly made fun of them; tired, white-faced, over-worked middle-aged women sat round the walls, laughing weakly, but forgetting the drudgery for a little while. At one end of the room older men sat and smoked, and looked at illustrated periodicals. Hal entered with Quin and Dick on either side of her, and was immediately accosted by a young lady, with a longer and straighter feather than most of them, with the remark: “Hullo, miss!… which of ’em’s yer sweet’eart?” A burst of laughter greeted this sally, but Hal, not in the least disconcerted, replied: “Why, both, of course… I’ll be bound you’ve had two at a time often enough.” The repartee delighted all within hearing, and from that moment Hal was a brilliant succes at the social evenings. She only wondered she had never thought to go before; but perhaps no other moment would have been just so propitious. The sudden blank in her life craved some interest that was entirely new, and made her more ready to receive fresh impressions and create fresh occupations. She quickly found real pleasure in teaching the girls to dance properly, in listening to their outspoken humour, and soon developed an interest in their varied and vigorous personalities. As she and Dick went home together that evening he noted joyfully that a little colour had come back to her face, and there was once more a genuine gleam in her eyes. “You liked it?” he asked. “Immensely.”