“I send my first one away on Thursday,” Douglas answered.

“You will send me a proof?”

“If I may, with pleasure.”

She turned to Drexley.

“And you, my friend,” she said, “how have things gone with you?  The Ibex is as good as ever.  I bought this month’s at a kiosk in Buda.  You must get Mr. Jesson to write you more stories as good as ’No Man’s Land.’”

Drexley looked up at her with a grim smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Yes,” he said, quietly.  “It was a good story, although I am afraid we rather humbugged Jesson about it.  I’m not at all sure that he’ll trust us with another.”

She returned Drexley’s look with a stare of non-comprehension.  It was the first sign of revolt from one in whom she had thought all along such a thing dead.  Then with a pleasant nod to Douglas she passed on, threading her way slowly amongst the tables to where her friends were waiting.  It was not until after she had gone that the two men realised how utterly she had ignored their two companions.

They took up the thread of their conversation—­and it was the unexpected which intervened.  Drexley relaxed still further; there was a quiet humour in everything he said; he took upon his shoulders the whole entertainment of the little party.  The coming of Emily de Reuss might well have been a matter of indifference to him.  With Douglas it was strangely different.  To him she had never seemed more beautiful; the fascination of her near presence, her voice, her exquisite toilette crept into his blood.  He was silent at first, a bright light gleamed in his eyes, he watched her continually.  A sense of aloofness crept over him.  He spoke and ate mechanically, scarcely noticing that he was drinking a good deal more wine than usual.  Once he glanced quickly at Cicely; her cheeks were flushed, and she was looking her best—­he saw only her imperfections.  Her prettiness, after all, was ordinary; her simple evening gown, even to his inexperienced eyes, suggested the home dressmaker; that slight tenderness for her which only a few days ago had seemed such a pleasant thing seemed suddenly swept away in the broad flood of a passion against which unconsciously he had long been struggling.  He forced himself after a while to share in their conversation, he joined in their laughter and listened to Drexley’s stories, but all the time with a sense of inward excitement which he found it hard to conceal.  Coffee and cigarettes were served at Drexley’s suggestion out in the palm court attached to the restaurant.  Afterwards, when the girls rose to leave, Douglas was conscious for the first time of a look of reproach in Cicely’s dark eyes.  He pretended to ignore it—­he felt that any sort of response just then was impossible.  The girls refused any escort home.  They drove away in a hansom, and Drexley remained upon the pavement listening to the echo of their farewell speeches as to a very pleasant thing.  He turned back with a rare smile upon his lips and laid his hand upon Douglas’s shoulder.