he would simply leave her letters unanswered, and the thing, of course, would come to an end at last.  He afterwards said something to Boulger about Miss Demolines—­but that was during the jollity of their supper—­and he then declared that he would follow out that little game.  ’I don’t see why a fellow isn’t to amuse himself, eh, Boulger, old boy?’ Boulger winked and grinned, and said some amusements were dangerous.  ’I don’t think that there is any danger there,’ said Johnny.  ’I don’t believe she is thinking of that kind of thing herself;—­not with me at least.  What she likes is the pretence of mystery; and as it is amusing I don’t see why a fellow shouldn’t indulge her.’  But that determination was pronounced after two mutton chops at ‘The Cock’, between one and two o’clock in the morning.  On the next day he was cooler and wiser.  Greek he thought might be tedious as he discovered that he would have to begin again from the very alphabet.  He would therefore abandon that idea.  Greek was not the thing for him, but he would take up the sanitary condition of the poor in London.  A fellow could be of some use in that way.  In the meantime he would keep his appointment with Miss Demolines, simply because it was an appointment.  A gentleman should always his word to a lady!

He did keep his appointment with Miss Demolines, and was with her almost precisely at the hour she had named.  She received him with a mysterious tranquillity which almost perplexed him.  He remembered, however, that the way to enjoy the society of Miss Demolines was to take her in all her moods with perfect seriousness, and was therefore very tranquil himself.  On the present occasion she did not rise as she entered the room, and hardly spoke as she tendered to him the tips of her fingers to be touched.  As she said almost nothing, he said nothing at all, but sank into a chair and stretched his legs out comfortably before him.  It had been always understood between them that she was to bear the burden of the conversation.

‘You’ll have a cup of tea?’ she said.

‘Yes;—­if you do.’  Then the page brought the tea, and John Eames amused himself by swallowing three slices of very thin bread and butter.

‘Non for me—­thanks,’ said Madalina.  ’I rarely eat after dinner, and not often much then.  I fancy that I should best like a world in which there was no eating.’

‘A good dinner is a very good thing,’ said John.  And then there was again silence.  He was aware that some great secret was to be told to him this evening, but he was much too discreet to show any curiosity upon that subject.  He sipped his tea to the end, and then, having got up to put his cup down, stood on the rug with his back to the fire.  ’Have you been out today?’ he asked.

‘Indeed I have.’

‘And you are tired.’

‘Very tired.’

‘Then perhaps I had better not keep you up.’

’Your remaining will make no difference in that respect.  I don’t suppose that I shall be in bed for the next four hours.  But do as you like about going.’