reply she had made him open the door for her, and he was left alone on
the square-railed platform.

In the gathering-room of the private car Virginia found an atmosphere
surcharged with electrical possibilities, felt it and inhaled it,
though there was nothing visible to indicate it. The Rajah was buried
in the depths of his particular easy-chair, puffing his cigar; Bessie
had the Reverend Billy in the tete-a-tete contrivance; and Mrs.
Carteret was reading under the Pintsch drop-light at the table.

It was the chaperon who applied the firing spark to the electrical
possibilities.

"Didn't I hear you talking to some one out on the platform, Virginia?"
she asked.

"Yes, it was Mr. Winton. He came to make his excuses."

Mr. Somerville Darrah awoke out of his tobacco reverie with a start.

"Hah!" he said fiercely. Then, in his most courteous phrase: "Did I
undehstand you to say that Misteh Winton would not faveh us to-night,
my deah Virginia?"

"He could not. He has come upon--upon some other difficulty, I
believe," she stammered, steering a perilous course among the rocks of
equivocation.

"Mmph!" said the Rajah, rising. "Ah--where is Jastrow?"