already made his mark in the City, shrewd, clever, cool-headed as a
fox, except where a pretty face and shapely hand or ankle were
concerned; of Nellie Fanshawe, then in the pride of her ravishing
beauty, who loved none but herself, whose clay-made gods were jewels,
and fine dresses and rich feasts, the envy of other women and the
courtship of all mankind.

That evening of the ball each clung to the hope that this memory of
the future was but a dream. They had been introduced to one another;
had heard each other's names for the first time with a start of
recognition; had avoided one another's eyes; had hastened to plunge
into meaningless talk; till that moment when young Camelford, stooping
to pick up Jessica's fan, had found that broken fragment of the
Rhenish wine-glass. Then it was that conviction refused to be shaken
off, that knowledge of the future had to be sadly accepted.

What they had not foreseen was that knowledge of the future in no way
affected their emotions of the present. Nathaniel Armitage grew day
by day more hopelessly in love with bewitching Alice Blatchley. The
thought of her marrying anyone else--the long-haired, priggish
Camelford in particular--sent the blood boiling through his veins;
added to which sweet Alice, with her arms about his neck, would
confess to him that life without him would be a misery hardly to be
endured, that the thought of him as the husband of another woman--of
Nellie Fanshawe in particular--was madness to her. It was right
perhaps, knowing what they did, that they should say good-bye to one
another. She would bring sorrow into his life. Better far that he
should put her away from him, that she should die of a broken heart,
as she felt sure she would. How could he, a fond lover, inflict this
suffering upon her? He ought of course to marry Nellie Fanshawe, but