Thus the three formed together one of the most perplexing,
maddening triangles that ever disturbed the society of
the metropolis.

. . . . . . .

The denouement was bound to come.

It came.

It was late at night.

De Vere was standing beside Dorothea in the brilliantly
lighted hall of the Grand Palaver Hotel, where they had
had supper. Mr. Overgold was busy for a moment at the
cashier's desk.

"Dorothea," de Vere whispered passionately, "I want to
take you away, away from all this. I want you."

She turned and looked him full in the face. Then she
put her hand in his, smiling bravely.

"I will come," she said.

"Listen," he went on, "the Gloritania sails for England
to-morrow at midnight. I have everything ready. Will you
come?"

"Yes," she answered, "I will"; and then passionately,