self-control, for she drove in succession to the jeweller's to select a
wedding gift, and to the dressmaker's for a fitting, at each place giving
the closest attention to the matter in hand. These nominal duties, but in
truth pleasures, concluded, nominal pleasures, but in truth duties,
succeeded them, and the carriage halted at four houses long enough to
ascertain that the especial objects of Miss Durant's visits "begged to be
excused," or were "not at home," each of which pieces of information, or,
to speak more correctly, the handing in by the footman, in response to the
information, of her card or cards, drew forth an unmistakable sigh of
relief from that young lady. Evidently Miss Durant was bored by people,
and this to those experienced in the world should be proof that Miss
Durant was, in fact, badly bored by herself.

One consequence of her escape, however, was that the girl remained with an
hour which must be got through with in some manner, and so, in a voice
totally without desire or eagerness, she said, "The Park, Wallace;" and in
the Park some fifty minutes were spent, her greatest variation from the
monotony of the wonted and familiar roads being an occasional nod of the
head to people driving or riding, with a glance at those with each, or at
the costumes they wore.

It was with a distinct note of anticipation in her voice, therefore, that
Miss Durant finally ordered, "Home, now, Murdock;" and, if the truth were
to be told, the chill in her hands and feet, due to the keen November
cold, with a mental picture of the blazing wood fire of her own room, and
of the cup of tea that would be drank in front of it, was producing almost
the first pleasurable prospect of the day to her.

Seemingly the coachman was as eager to be in-doors as his mistress, for he
whipped up the horses, and the carriage was quickly crossing the plaza and