name was mentioned--a light, half wistful, half kindly. For several
minutes after they had left, he sat looking idly at the "bill of fare"
with the same look on his face. There had been no such chance of
salvation for him.



CHAPTER XXIV

THE COUNTESS, THE COUSIN, AND THE CRITIC

Out in the streets they paused. A theatre or any place of amusement was
out of the question, for Cicely dared not stay out later than half-past
nine. Then a luminous idea came to Douglas.

"Why on earth shouldn't you come to my rooms?" he asked. "I can give
you some decent coffee and read you the first chapter of my novel."

She hesitated, but barely for a moment.

"It sounds delightful," she admitted. "I'll come. Glad to. Isn't it
lovely to be in this great city, and to know what freedom is--to do what
seems well and hear nothing of that everlasting 'other people say'?"

"It's magnificent," he answered.

He beckoned a hansom, handed her in, and somehow forgot to release her
hand. The wheels were rubber-tyred and the springs easy. They glided
into the sea of traffic with scarcely a sense of movement.