Sorell emerging with the stream into the High Street saw Connie's black and white parasol a little ahead.
Falloden was on the point of overtaking her, when Radowitz, the golden-haired, the conspicuous, crossed his path.

Constance looked round, smiled, shook hands with Radowitz, and apparently not seeing Falloden in her rear, walked on, in merry talk with the beaming musician.

Sorell, perhaps, was the only person who noticed the look of pale fury with which Falloden dropped out of the crowded pathway, crossed the street, and entered a smart club opposite, exclusively frequented by "bloods." Commem.

week itself, however, would give a man in love plenty of chances.

Sorell was well aware of it.