‘Oh! indeed,’ said Vandeloup, politely; ‘Hum!--still afraid of her husband turning up,’ he said to himself, as Kitty was carried away for a valse by Mr Bellthorp; ‘how slow all this is?’ he went on, yawning, and rising from his seat; ‘I shan’t stay long, or that old woman will be seizing me again. Poor Kestrike, surely his sin has been punished enough in having such a wife,’ and M. Vandeloup strolled away to speak to Mrs Riller, who, being bereft of Bellthorp, was making signals to him with her fan. Barty Jarper had been hard at work all night on the poodle-dog system, and had danced with girls who could not dance, and talked with girls that could not talk, so, as a reward for his work, he promised himself a dance with Kitty. At the beginning of the evening he had secured a dance from her, and now, all his duties for the evening being over, he went to get it. Bellthorp had long since returned to Mrs Riller and flirtation, and Kitty had been dancing with a tall young man, with unsteady legs and an eye-glass that would not stick in his eye. She did not particularly care about Mr Jarper, with his effeminate little ways, but was quite glad when he came to carry her off from the unsteady legs and the eye-glass. The dance was the Lancers; but Kitty declared she would not dance it as she felt weary, so made Mr Jarper take her to supper. Barty was delighted, as he was hungry himself, so they secured a pleasant little nook, and Barty foraged for provisions. ‘You know all about this house,’ said Kitty, when she saw how successful the young man was in getting nice things. ‘Oh, yes,’ murmured Barty, quite delighted, ‘I know most of the houses in Melbourne--I know yours.’ ‘Mrs Villiers’?’ asked Kitty. Barty nodded. ‘Used to go down there a lot when Mr Frettlby lived there,’ he said, sipping his wine. ‘I know every room in it.’ ‘You’d be invaluable as a burglar,’ said Kitty, a little contemptuously, as she looked at his slim figure. ‘I dare say,’ replied Barty, who took the compliment in good faith. ‘Some night I’ll climb up to your room and give you a fright.’ ‘Shows how much you know,’ retorted Miss Marchurst. ‘My room is next to Madame’s on the ground floor.’ ‘I know,’ said Barty, sagely, nodding his head. ‘It used to be a boudoir--nice little room. By the way, where is Mrs Villiers to-night?’ ‘She’s not well,’ replied Kitty, yawning behind her fan, for she was weary of Barty and his small talk. ‘She’s very worried.’ ‘Over money matters, I suppose?’ Kitty laughed and shook her head. ‘Hardly,’ she answered. ‘I dare say,’ replied Barty, ‘she’s awfully rich. You know, I’m in the bank where her account is, and I know all about her. Rich! oh, she is rich! Lucky thing for that French fellow if he marries her.’ ‘Marries her?’ echoed Kitty, her face growing pale. ‘M. Vandeloup?’