it, muffled it, passed it off. Oh yes, she went all the way, and this
was a specimen of how she often went. She would know the hand again any
time. It was as handsome and as everything else as the woman herself.
The woman herself had, on learning his flight, pushed past Everard's
servant and into his room; she had written her missive at his table and
with his pen. All this, every inch of it, came in the waft that she blew
through and left behind her, the influence that, as I have said,
lingered. And among the things the girl was sure of, happily, was that
she should see her again.




CHAPTER IV


She saw her in fact, and only ten days later; but this time not alone,
and that was exactly a part of the luck of it. Not unaware--as how could
her observation have left her so?--of the possibilities through which it
could range, our young lady had ever since had in her mind a dozen
conflicting theories about Everard's type; as to which, the instant they
came into the place, she felt the point settled with a thump that seemed
somehow addressed straight to her heart. That organ literally beat
faster at the approach of the gentleman who was this time with Cissy, and
who, as seen from within the cage, became on the spot the happiest of the
happy circumstances with which her mind had invested the friend of Fritz
and Gussy. He was a very happy circumstance indeed as, with his
cigarette in his lips and his broken familiar talk caught by his
companion, he put down the half-dozen telegrams it would take them
together several minutes to dispatch. And here it occurred, oddly