What do you think, reader?  Was it not a brave and noble action of hers to vindicate Claudius by taking upon herself the whole responsibility of his love rather than by going home and sending Mr. Barker documentary evidence of the Doctor’s personality?  Claudius had never asked her to marry him, the very word had never been mentioned.  But he had told her he loved her and she had trusted him.

Start not at the infinity of social crime that such a doubt defines.  It is there.  It is one thing for a woman to love a man at arm’s length conditionally; it is another for her to take him to her heart and trust him.  Does every millionaire who makes love to a penniless widow mean to marry her? for Margaret was poor on that Tuesday in Newport.  Or reverse the case; if Claudius were an adventurer, as Barker hinted, what were the consequences she assumed in declaring herself engaged to marry him?

In spite of her excitement, Margaret was far too much a woman of the world to create a sensation by walking through the rooms alone.  In a moment or two she saw a man she knew, and calling him to her by a look, took his arm.  She chatted pleasantly to this young fellow, as proud as need be of being selected to conduct the beauty whither she would, and after some searching she discovered Mr. Bellingham, still asleep behind the swinging door.

“Thanks,” she said to her escort.  “I have promised to take Mr. Bellingham home.”  And she dropped the young man’s arm with a nod and a smile.

“But he is asleep,” objected the gallant.

“I will wake him,” she answered.  And laying her hand on Mr. Bellingham’s, she leaned down and spoke his name.  Instantly he awoke, as fresh as from a night’s rest, for he had the Napoleonic faculty for catching naps.

“Winter awaking to greet the spring,” he said without the slightest hesitation, as though he had prepared the little speech in his sleep.  “Forgive me,” he said, “it is a habit of mine learned long ago.”  He presented his arm and asked her what was her pleasure.

“I am going home,” she said, “and if you like I will drop you at your door.”

Mr. Bellingham glanced at a great enamelled clock, half-hidden among flowers and fans, as they passed, and he noticed that they had not been in the house much more than three quarters of an hour.  But he wisely said nothing, and waited patiently while Margaret was wrapped in her cloaks, and till the butler had told the footman, and the footman had told the other footman, and the other footman had told the page, and the page had told the policeman to call the Countess Margaret’s carriage.  After which the carriage appeared, and they drove away.

Uncle Horace chatted pleasantly about the party, admitting that he had dreamed more than he had seen of it.  But Margaret said little, for the reaction was coming after the excitement she had passed through.  Only when they reached Mr. Bellingham’s rooms, and he was about to leave her, she held his hand a moment and looked earnestly in his face.