the adventure she had come out to meet had faded into thin air! The
unexpected one which had so startlingly taken its place would end
to-night, and she would be left to the dreary existence from which she
had tried to break free.

She was like a pebble that had succeeded in riding out to sea on a wave,
only to be washed back into its old place on the shore. The thought that,
after all, she had no change to look forward to, gave the girl a
passionate desire to make the most of this one living hour among many
that were born dead.

"Mrs. Ellsworth's house," she said, "is 22-A, Torrington Square."

"Thank you." Only these two words he spoke, but the eager dark eyes
seemed to add praise and blessings for her confidence.

"My name is Annesley Grayle," she volunteered, as if to prove to the man
and to herself how far she trusted him; also perhaps as a bid for his
name in payment of that trust. So at least he must have understood, for
he said: "If I don't tell you mine, it's for your own protection. I'm not
ashamed of it; but it's better that you shouldn't know--that if you heard
it suddenly, it should be strange to you, just like any other name. Don't
you see I'm right?"

"I dare say you are."

"Then we'll leave it at that. But we can't go on pretending to study
this menu for ever! You came to dine with Mr. Smith. You'll dine with
his understudy instead. You'll let me order dinner? It's part of the
programme."