are certainly right. I prefer to be dull."

The Baroness sighed gently.

"Some of my dearest friends," she murmured, "I have--but there, it is a
subject upon which we disagree. We will talk of something else. Shall we
go to the theatre to-night?"

"As you will," Louise answered indifferently. "There isn't much that we
haven't seen, is there?"

"We will send for a paper and see," the Baroness said. "We cannot sit and
look at one another all the evening. With music one can make dinner last
out till nine or even half past--an idea, my Louise!" she exclaimed
suddenly. "Cannot we go to a music-hall, the Alhambra, for example? We
could take a box and sit back."

"It is not customary," Louise declared coldly. "If you really wish it,
though, I don't--I don't--"

Her speech was broken off in a somewhat extraordinary manner. She was
leaning a little forward in her chair, all her listlessness and pallor
seemed to have been swept away by a sudden rush of emotion. The colour
had flooded her cheeks, her tired eyes were suddenly bright; was it with
fear or only surprise? The Baroness wasted no time in asking questions.
She raised her lorgnettes and turned round, facing the direction in
which Louise was looking. Coming directly towards them from the further
end of the restaurant was a young man, whose eyes never swerved from
their table. He was pale, somewhat slight, but the lines of his mouth
were straight and firm, and there was not lacking in him that air of