"I suppose so. I don't often miss, do I? Well, I hear Marcia was the beauty
at the Shrewsbury House ball, and that--" he whispered something, laughing
in her ear.

Lady Coryston looked a little impatient.

"Oh, I dare say. And if it's not he, it will be some one else. She'll marry
directly. I always expected it. Well, now I must go. Have you seen Arthur?"

"Mother! Hullo, Sir Wilfrid!"

There was the young orator, flushed and radiant. But his mother could say
very little to him, for the magnificent person in charge of the Gallery and
its approaches intervened. "No talking allowed here, sir, please." Even
Lady Coryston must obey. All she could add to her hurried congratulations
was:

"You're coming in to-night, remember, Arthur?--nine-thirty."

"Yes, I've paired. I'm coming. But what on earth's up, mother?"

Her lips shut closely.

"Remember, nine-thirty!" She turned and went back into the darkness of the
Gallery.

Arthur hesitated a moment in the passage outside. Then he turned back
toward the little entrance-room opposite the entrance to the ordinary
Ladies' Gallery, where he found another attendant.