“The pleasure is all mine, Madame,” replies Mr. Newt, as he sees with bitterness that Sligo Moultrie stands ready to offer his hand to assist Miss Plumer. The footman holds the carriage door open. Miss Plumer can accept the assistance of but one, and Mr. Abel is resolved to know which one.
“Permit me, Miss Plumer,” says Sligo.
“Allow me, Miss Grace,” says Abel.
The latter address sounds to her a little too free. She feels, perhaps, that he has no rights of intimacy—at least not yet—or what does she feel? But she gives her hand to Sligo Moultrie, and Abel bows.
“Thank you for a delightful evening, Mr. Newt. Good-night!”
The host bows again, bareheaded, in the moonlight.
“By-the-by, Mr. Moultrie,” says the ringing voice of the clear-eyed girl, who remembers that Abel is listening, but who is sure that only Sligo can understand, “I ought to have told you that the story ended differently. The Princess left the villa. Good-night! good-night!”
The carriage rattles down the street.
“Good-night, Newt; a very beautiful and pleasant party.”
“Good-night, Moultrie—thank you; and pleasant dreams.”