"Then you shan't get it. Come to-morrow, and I'll see what I can do. By the way, I want you to go to Brighton for me." "I don't mind, if you pay." "Do I ever object to pay when you go on my business?" asked his wife, crossly, for the heat seemed to have worn her nerves thin. "What's the business?" asked Eddy, taking out a cigarette. "I'll tell you to-morrow. Go away now." "And you'll give me the fiver to-morrow?" "I'll give you ten pounds." "Oh, I say, that deserves a kiss. Do remove that beastly yashmak and let me kiss you!" Madame Coralie pushed him back violently. "Certainly not. I have no time for frivolity. Go away." The young man looked astonished. "You always liked being kissed before," he remarked sulkily. "Are you going back to Lady Branwin?" "No. She has had some supper, and will now sleep. I must attend to the paste for her complexion. Zobeide? Go away, Eddy. It's getting late." "Five minutes after eight," said the young man, and sauntered out of the door. "I'll turn up to-morrow before midday. Good-bye." Madame Coralie nodded wearily, and stared at the clock on the mantelpiece in a vague way. "Five minutes past eight," she murmured; "well, I thought--" Her speech was interrupted by a ring at the front door of the shop. Badoura appeared from between the curtains. "Shall I go, Madame?" "No. It is Miss Branwin. I'll go down myself," and with a tired sigh the stout woman rolled out of the room. Eddy, apparently, had left the house by the side door at the end of the lower passage, for she saw nothing of him. Shortly she was on the pavement speaking to Audrey, who, clothed in a simple white dress, was waiting with Mrs. Mellop in the car. "Will mamma stop for the night, Madame?" asked Audrey. "Yes," replied the woman, adjusting her yashmak carefully. "Lady Branwin will stop for the night." CHAPTER II IN THE MORNING Audrey was one of the prettiest girls in the world, and beyond question the very prettiest in London. At least, Ralph Shawe said as much, and, although the statement was prejudiced by love, it undoubtedly was true in the main. For what other damsel, as the young man often pointed out, possessed such striking charms as Audrey displayed? Her bronzed and curling hair, her sparkling brown eyes, her transparent complexion, delicately hued as the dawn--these were desirable attributes in the eyes of a lover. Then her small figure--she was really diminutive--had the dainty grace of a gazelle. All Madame Coralie's art could not have created such a buoyant figure, nor could her taste have suggested any improvement in the various frocks which clothed it on various occasions. And those slim hands and feet, that radiant smile, and the general air of youthful gaiety were the envy of the women and the admiration of the men. These declarations sound somewhat too emphatic; but they must be taken as a précis of Ralph Shawe's thoughts. And, being a true lover, what could he do but think in superlatives?