what, told her that this was not love. She must wait. As she dressed to
go to the Duchess of Bilberry's "At Home," she wondered if she would ever
meet John Penquarto again, and if he had altered.

"Mary!"

It was John speaking. He had seen her the moment she came in at the door.
Something--was it the Duchess's champagne at dinner?--had reminded him of
the acid-drop they had eaten together and this had brought back his
memories in a flood. To-night he would meet her again. He knew it
instinctively. Besides, it was like this that William Trewulliam had met
Anne again, and Henry Polhenery had met Sarah, and Thomas Pentummas had
met Alice, and--well, anyhow he knew.

"John!"

It was Mary speaking. Perhaps you had guessed.

"You knew me?" (This is John. It was his turn.)

"I knew you." (Said Mary.)

"Do you remember--"

Mary blushed, and John did not deviate from the healthy red colour which
he had maintained throughout the conversation. In spite of his success he
was never quite at ease in society at this period of his life. Nor were
Henry Polhenery and Thomas Pentummas. They remained handsome but awkward,
which was why women loved them so.