London. On the last occasion an Agent-General for one of the great
Colonies had sat next her at dinner. Then there was her friend Mrs.
Penderby, whose husband gathered enormous wealth in some mysterious way
in Mark Lane. Why should she not go up to London and open a campaign on
Dick's behalf, secure him an appointment, and come back flourishing it
before his dazzled and delighted eyes? The prospect was enchanting. The
fairy godmother romance of it fascinated her girlish mind. But first
she must clear the ground at home. There must be no opposition from
Austin. He must be her ally.

When a woman gets an idea like this into her head she must execute it,
as the Americans say, right now. A man waits, counts up all the
barriers, and speculates on the strength and courage of the lions in the
path--but a woman goes straight forward, and does not worry about the
lions till they bite her. Viviette resolved to speak to Austin at once;
but, owing to a succession of the little ironies of circumstance, she
found no opportunity of doing so all the afternoon or evening. It was
only when, standing at the top of the stairs, she had seen Dick go off
to the armoury, and Austin return to the drawing-room--for the men had
bidden the ladies good night in the hall--that she saw her chance. She
went downstairs and opened the drawing-room door.

"I don't want to go to bed after all. Do you think you can do with me a
little longer?"

"A great deal longer," he said, drawing a chair for her, and arranging
the shade of a lamp so that the light should not shine full in her eyes.
"I was just thinking how dull the room looked without you--as if all the
flowers had suddenly been taken away."