"Hector! I like the name of Hector," were the last coherent thoughts
which floated through the brain of Theodora before sleep closed her
broad, white lids.

Meanwhile, Lord Bracondale had gone on to sup at the Café de Paris, with
Marion de Beauvoison and Esclarmonde de Chartres; and among the diamonds
and pearls and scents and feathers he suddenly felt a burning disgust,
and a longing to be out again in the moonlight--alone with his thoughts.

"Mais qu'as tu, mon vieux chou?" they said. "Ce bel Hector chéri--il a
un béguin pour quelqu'un--mais ce n'est pas pour nous autres!"




III


Josiah Brown cut the top off his _oeuf à la coque_ with a knife at his
_premier déjeuner_ next day. The knife grated on the shell in a
determined way, and Theodora felt her heart sink at the prospect of
broaching the subject of the breakfast at the Café Henry.

"I am so glad the rain has stopped," she said, nervously. "It was
raining when I woke this morning."

"Indeed," replied Josiah. "And what kind of an evening did you pass with
that father of yours?"