"Only too late for supper," was the dry answer of the old banker, but the tone was pleasant.
Through the hall, where those in waiting stood respectfully as she passed, the banker led her to a small, luxuriously furnished parlor on the ground floor. As she threw aside her wraps and sank into a soft chair, old Bugbee opened the door of an inner room, and turned to her:
"These are your apartments," said he.
The Beauty looked around, but said nothing, only nodding her head.
"You are very tired?" questioned old Bugbee.
"No; not very. But I should like some supper—and a glass of wine."
Mr. Bugbee touched a bell and gave an order.
"It is almost midnight?" she asked.
"It is after twelve—ten minutes. The morning of the great day has come."
And the old banker looked into the eyes of the young Beauty, and almost smiled in response to her low, derisive laugh.