“It was foreshadowed—­promised, at home this morning; but it was realized here.”

“Did you know beforehand that I was coming?”

“Not until to-day.  Mrs. Leith Fairfax said that you would most likely be here.”

“And you are happy?”

“So much so that I cannot help talking about my happiness to you, who are the very last person—­as you will admit when everything is explained—­to whom I should unlock my lips on the subject.”

“And why?  Am I not interested in your happiness?”

“I suppose so.  I hope so.  But when you learn the truth, you will be more astonished than gratified.”

“I dare swear that you are mistaken.  Is this dream of yours an affair of the heart?”

“Now you are beginning to ask questions.”

“Well, I will ask no more at present.  But if you fear that my long absence has rendered me indifferent in the least degree to your happiness, you do me a great injustice.”

“Well, you were not in a very good humor with me when you went away.”

“I will forget that if you wish me to.”

“I do wish you to forget it.  And you forgive me?”

“Most assuredly.”

“Then we are the best friends in the world again.  This is a great deal better than meeting and pretending to ignore the very thing of which our minds are full.  You will not delay visiting us any longer now, I hope.”

“I will call on your father to-morrow morning.  May I?”

“He is out of town until Monday.  He will be delighted to see you then.  He has been talking to me about you a great deal of late.  But if you want to see him in the morning you had better go to the club.  I will write to him to-night if you like; so that he can write to you and make an appointment.”

“Do.  Ah, Marian, instinct is better and truer than intellect.  I have been for two years trying to believe all kinds of evil of you; and yet I knew all the time that you were an angel.”

Marian laughed.  “I suppose that under our good understanding I must let you say pretty things to me.  You must write me a sonnet before your enthusiasm evaporates.  I am sure I deserve it as well as Clytemnestra.”

“I will.  But I fear I shall tear it up for its unworthiness afterward.”

“Dont:  I am not a critic.  Talking of critics, where has Mrs. Leith Fairfax gone to?  Oh, there she is!”

Mrs. Fairfax came up when she saw Marian look round for her.  “My dear,” she said:  “it is past six.  We must go.  Elinor may be waiting for us.”

They found Elinor seated in the vestibule with Conolly, at whom Mrs. Fairfax plunged, full of words.  Conolly and Douglas, introduced to one another by Marian, gravely raised their hats.  When they had descended the stairs, they stood in a group near one of the doors whilst Conolly went aside to get their umbrellas.  Just then Marmaduke Lind entered the building, and halted in surprise at finding himself among so many acquaintances.