James' Hall; Lady Toadyby's costume at the Queen's drawing-room; the accounts of Sardou's new play in Paris, with Bernhardt in the title role and—yes! I did it—the latest divorce case, minus the details, of course.
I read everything, understood nearly all that I read, focussed it in my mind, and you see was prepared to present it in good evening dress as an accessory to the dinner of my lord and master. I consider I did bravely. I had never done better. Arthur looked up thoroughly pleased. He little knew that beneath my coat—the coat that Marie put upon my cheeks—two scarlet spots were burning, and that my soul sickened of Lord Randolph Churchill, the Savoy Theatre, St. James' Hall, Lady Toadyby and all the rest of it.
Dinner was over—thank goodness!
"Are you going out to-night, Arthur?" I asked carelessly.
"Yes, Elsie, I—I—think so. Why?"
I had long ceased to interest myself in his actions as far as he could see. He had, therefore,
