Mavis did not reply.

"We must have a talk. Please, please don't refuse me this."

"I shan't eat anything."

"If you don't, I shan't."

"I won't--I swear I won't accept the least favour from you."

She looked at him resentfully: she would go any lengths to conceal
her lessening dislike for him.

"You'd better wait," he called to the cabman, as he led the way to a
restaurant.

Two attendants, in gold-laced coats, opened double folding doors at
the approach of the man and the girl.

Mavis found herself in a large hall, elaborately decorated with red
and gold, upon the floor of which were many tables, that just now
were sparsely occupied.

Windebank looked from table to table, as if in search of something.
His eye, presently, rested on one, at which an elderly matron was
supping with a parson, presumably her husband.

"Good luck!" Windebank murmured, adding to the girl, "This way."

Mavis followed him up the hall to the table next the one where the