She extended a hand to each; and Conolly, after looking at the catch for a moment, closed it dexterously at the first snap.  “By the bye,” he said, whilst Douglas fumbled at the other bracelet, “I have to run away to Glasgow to-night by the ten train.  We shall not see one another again until Monday evening.”

Douglas’s hand began to shake so that the gold band chafed Marian’s arm.  “There, there,” she said, drawing it away from him, “you do it for me, Ned.  Sholto has no mechanical genius.”  Her hand was quite steady as Conolly shut the clasp.  “Why must you go to Glasgow?”

“They have got into a mess at the works there; and the engineer has telegraphed for me to go down and see what is the matter.  I shall certainly be back on Monday.  Have something for me to eat at half past seven.  I am sorry to be away from our Sunday dinner, Douglas; but you know the popular prejudice.  If you want a thing done, see to it yourself.”

“Sholto has been very eloquent this evening on the subject of popular prejudices,” said Marian.  “He says that to defy the world is a proof of honesty.”

“So it is,” said Conolly.  “I get on in the world by defying its old notions, and taking nobody’s advice but my own.  Follow Douglas’s precepts by all means.  Do you know that it is nearly a quarter to eight?”

“Oh!  Let us go.  We shall be late.”

“I shall not see you to-morrow, Douglas.  Good-night.”

“Good-night,” said Douglas, keeping at some distance; for he did not care to offer Conolly his hand before Marian now.  “Pleasant journey.”

“Thank you.  Hallo! [Marian had impatiently turned back.] What have you forgotten?”

“My opera-glass,” said Marian.  “No, thanks:  you would not know where to look for it:  I will go myself.”

She went upstairs; and Conolly, after a pause, followed, and found her in their bedroom, closing the drawer from which she had just taken the opera-glass.

“Marian,” he said:  “you have been crying to-day.  Is anything wrong? or is it only nervousness?”

“Only nervousness,” said Marian.  “How did you find out that I had been crying? it was only for an instant, because Nelly annoyed me.  Does my face shew it?”

“It does to me, not to anyone else.  Are you more cheerful now?”

“Yes, I am all right.  I will go to Glasgow with you, if you like.”

Conolly recoiled, disconcerted.  “Why?” he said.  “Do you wish——?” He recovered himself, and added, “It is too cold, my dear; and I must travel very fast.  I shall be busy all the time.  Besides, you are forgetting the theatre and Douglas, who, by the bye, is catching cold on the steps.”

“Well, I had better go with Douglas, since it will make you happier.”