'Well? What?'

'You hope he'll keep his promise?' Thyrza said, bending a little nearer, and dropping her eyes as soon as she had spoken.

'H'm. Yes. Perhaps I do,' said Totty, putting her head on one side. And forthwith she began to hum a tune, which however, she checked the next moment, remembering Nelly.

'But you speak in a queer way, Totty.'

'So do you, Thyrza. What are you bothering about?'

Again she searched Thyrza's face, this time with something very curious in her gaze, a kind of suspicion one would have said.

'I--I like to know about you,' Thyrza said, with embarrassment.

'I've told you all there is to tell.'

'But you haven't told me really whether--Do you,' she sank her voice still lower, 'do you love him, Totty?'

A singular flush came and went upon the other girl's face. She herself was little disposed to use sentimental words, and it was the first time that Thyrza had done so to her. The coarseness she heard from certain of her companions did not abash her, but this word of Thyrza's seemed to do so strangely. She looked up in a moment. Thyrza's face was agitated.

'What does that matter?' Totty said, in a rather hard voice. And she added, drawing herself up awkwardly, 'You've made your own choice, Thyrza.'

For an instant surprise held Thyrza mute; then she exclaimed:

'But, Totty, you don't think--? I was thinking of you, dear; only of you. You never supposed I--Oh, say you didn't think that, Totty!'

Totty relaxed her muscles a little. She smiled, shook her head, laughed uneasily.

'I meant, dear,' Thyrza continued, 'that I hope you do love him, as you're going to marry him. I hope you love him very much, and I hope he loves you. I'm sorry I said that. I thought you wouldn't mind.'

'I don't mind at all, old dear. If you _must_ know--I like him pretty well.'

'But it ought to be _more_ than that--it ought, Totty--much more than that, dear--'

She was trembling. Totty looked at her in surprise, coldly.

'Don't go on like that,' she said. 'There, you've woke the child, of course! Now there'll be two of you crying. See which can make most noise. Now, Nelly! Well, I call this nice!

At the sound of the child's voice, Thyrza at once restrained herself and rose from her chair. Totty managed to quieten her little charge, whom she took upon her lap. She did not look at Thyrza.

'Good-bye, Totty!' said the latter, holding out her hand.

'Good-bye!' Totty returned, but without appearing to notice the hand offered. 'I hope you'll be better before next Monday, Thyrza.'

'You're unkind to-day, Totty. I wish I hadn't come in.'

There was no reply to this, so Thyrza said another farewell and left the house.

She got back to her room, and, hopeless of otherwise passing the time till Lydia's return, lay down on the bed. Perhaps she could close her eyes for half an hour. But when she had turned restlessly from one side to the other, there came a knock at the door. She knew it must be Mrs.

Grail, and made no answer. But the knock was repeated, and the door opened. Mrs. Grail looked in, and, seeing Thyrza, came to the bedside.

'Aren't you well, my dear?' she asked, gently.

Thyrza made pretence of having just awoke.

'I thought I'd try and sleep a little,' she replied, holding her face with one hand. 'No, I don't feel quite well.'

'Lie quiet, then. I won't disturb you. Come down as soon as you'd like some tea.'

It was a weary time till Lydia returned, although she came back nearly half an hour earlier than usual. Thyrza still lay on the bed. When they had exchanged a few words, the latter said:

'I don't think I can go to-night, Lyddy. My head's bad.'

'Oh, what a pity! Can't we do something to make it better?'

Thyrza turned her face away.

'I'd altered my mind,' Lydia continued. 'I meant to go with you.'

'Really? You'll go with us?'

Thyrza felt that this would lessen the strange reluctance with which through the afternoon she had thought of the concert. She at once rose, and consented more cheerfully to try if a cup of tea would help her.

She bathed her forehead, smoothed her hair, and went down.

It was not long before Gilbert entered, he too having come away earlier from work. In order to get a seat in the gallery of the concert hall, they must be soon at the doors. Thyrza declared that she felt much better. Her heavy eyes gave little assurance of this, but something of her eagerness had returned, and for the time she had indeed succeeded in subduing the torment within.

An omnibus took the three into Piccadilly. They were not too early at the hall, for the accustomed crowd had already begun to assemble.

Thyrza locked her arm in her sister's, Gilbert standing behind them. He whispered a word now and then to one or the other, but Thyrza kept silence; her cheeks were flushed; she inspected all the faces about her. At length, admission was gained and seats secured.

Thyrza sat between the other two, but she still kept her hold on Lydia's arm, until the latter said laughingly:

'You're not afraid of losing me now. I expect we shall be dreadfully hot here soon.'

She withdrew her hand. Gilbert began to talk to her. Had it not been for the circumstances, he must have observed a difference in Thyrza's manner to him. She scarcely ever met his look, and when she spoke it was with none of the usual spontaneity. But she seemed to be absorbed in observation of the people who had begun to seat themselves in other parts of the hall. The toilettes were a wonder to her. Lydia, too, they interested very much; she frequently whispered a comment on such as seemed to her 'nice' or the contrary. She could not help trying to think how Thyrza would look if 'dressed like a lady.'

Thyrza started, so perceptibly that Lydia asked her what was the matter.

'Nothing,' she answered, moving as if to seat herself more comfortably.

But henceforth her eyes were fixed in one direction, on a point down in the body of the hall. She no longer replied to the remarks of either of her companions. The flush remained warm upon her cheeks.

'Thyrza!' whispered Gilbert, when the musicians were in their places, and the preliminary twanging and screeching of instruments under correction had begun. 'There's Mr. Egremont!'

'Is he? Where?'

'Do you see that tall lady in the red cloak? No, more to the left; there's a bald man on the other side of him.'

'Yes, I see him.'

She waited a moment, then repeated the news to Lydia, with singular indifference. Then she began to gaze in quite other directions. The instrumental uproar continued.