"She was Sweet of Heart."
Epitaph on the Tomb of an Egyptian Princess, 700 b.c.
Olwen, with Golden's furs, hurried through the billiard-room to the outer hall with the "Enquiries" counter, the long bar, and the rows of refreshment-tables crowded by soldiers and sailors.
One table was empty, reserved for Mr. Awdas's party, but the young flying officer had been called away on duty just after his fiancée's second song. Olwen was sorry for him, but his loss was her chance; and she saw so little of this friend of hers.
As she handed over the great leopard-skin muff, she said, rather appealingly, "Are you staying, Golden?"
"Why, aren't you?" Golden said, glancing towards the group who were ordering coffee. "It's quite early."
"Yes; and I felt like a walk," said the other girl, wistfully, "and I thought if we got out of this crush I might see you to speak to——"
Golden laughed. "Very well," she agreed. "I'll come with you; wait while I shake hands with Mrs. Cartwright...."
The two young girls bade a quick good night to the party, and before it was quite realized that they were leaving, they had passed through the hall, descended the wooden staircase, and reached the entrance to the Strand.