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." The young Georgian skips up the street, thinking only of Grace Plumer's last words.

Abel Newt stands at his door for a moment, remembering them also, and perfectly understanding them.

The next instant he is shawling and cloaking the other ladies, who follow the Plumers; among them Mrs.
Dagon, who says, softly, "Good-night, Abel.