Alma replied with civility, but did not meet his look.  She refused another cup of tea, and glanced so meaningly at her friend that in a few moments Mrs. Strangeways rose.

‘You won’t leave me yet to my solitude?’ exclaimed Redgrave.  With a sigh he yielded to the inevitable, inquired gently once more whether Mrs Rolfe felt quite restored, and again overwhelmed Mrs. Strangeways with thanks.  Still the ladies had to wait a few minutes for their carriage, which, at Redgrave’s direction, had made a long detour in the adjacent roads; and during this delay, as if the prospect of release inspirited her, Alma spoke a few words in a more natural tone.  Redgrave had asked what public concerts she usually attended.

‘None regularly,’ was her reply.  ’I should often go on Saturdays to the Crystal Palace, if it were not so far for me.  I want to get there, if possible, on Saturday week, to hear Sterndale Bennett’s new concerto.’

‘Ah, I should like to hear that!’ said Redgrave.  ’We may perhaps see each other.’

This time she did not refuse to encounter his look, and the smile with which she answered it was so peculiarly expressive of a self-confident disdain that he could scarcely take his eyes from her.  Cyrus Redgrave knew as well as most men the signals of challenge on a woman’s features; at a recent meeting he had detected something of the sort in Alma’s behaviour to him, and at this moment her spirit could not be mistaken.  Quite needlessly she had told him where he might find her, if he chose.  This was a great step.  To be defied so daringly meant to him no small encouragement.

‘It’s fortunate,’ said Alma, as the carriage bore her away, ’that we had this adventure with a gentleman.’

The remark sounded surprising to Mrs. Strangeways.

‘I’m so glad you have quite got over your annoyance, dear,’ she replied.

’It was as bad for you as for me, under the circumstances.  But I’m sure Mr. Redgrave won’t give it another thought.’

And Alma chatted very pleasantly all the way back to town, where she dined with Mrs. Strangeways.  At eleven o’clock she reached home.  Her husband, who was recovering from a sore throat, sat pipeless and in no very cheerful mood by the library fire; but the sight of Alma’s radiant countenance had its wonted effect upon him; he stretched his arms, as if to rouse himself from a long fit of reverie, and welcomed her in a voice that was a little husky.

‘Well, how did it go?’

‘Not badly, I think.  And how have you been getting on, poor old boy?’

’So so; swearing a little because I couldn’t smoke.  But Hughie has a cold tonight; caught mine, I dare say, confound it!  Miss Smith took counsel with me about it, and we doctored him a little.’

’Poor dear little man!  I wish I had been back in time to see him.  But there was no getting away —­ had to stay to dinner ——­’