But society took the story for what it was worth, and shook its head portentously over Miss Dane and her mysteries.
Nobody knew who she was, where she came from, or what relation she bore to Mr.Walraven, and nobody believed Mr.Walraven and his little romance.
But as Mesdames Walraven, mother and wife, countenanced the extraordinary creature with the flighty way and amber curls, and as she was the ward of a millionaire, why, society smiled graciously, and welcomed Mollie back with charming sweetness.
A fortnight passed--the fortnight of probation she had given Sir Roger.
There was a grand dinner-party at some commercial nabob's up the avenue, and all the Walraven family were there.

There, too, was the Welsh baronet, stately and grand-seigneur-like as ever; there were Dr.
Oleander, Lawyer Sardonyx, Hugh Ingelow, and the little witch who had thrown her wicked sorceries over them, brighter, more sparkling, more lovely than ever.
And at the dinner-party Mollie was destined to receive a shock; for, just before they paired off to the dining-room, there entered a late guest, announced as the "Reverend Mr.Rashleigh," and, looking in the Reverend Mr.Rashleigh's face, Mollie Dane recognized him at once.
She was standing at the instant, as it chanced, beside Hugh Ingelow, gayly helping him to satirize a magnificent "diamond wedding" they had lately attended; but at the sight of the portly, commonplace gentleman, the words seemed to freeze on her lips.
With her eyes fixed on his face, her own slowly whitening until it was blanched, Mollie stood and gazed and gazed.

Hugh Ingelow looked curiously from one to the other.
"In Heaven's name, Miss Mollie, do you see the Marble Guest, or some invisible familiar, peeping over that fat gentleman's shoulder?
What do you see?
You look as though you were going to faint." "Do you know that gentleman ?" she managed to ask.
"Do I know him--Reverend Raymond Rashleigh?
Better than I know myself, Miss Dane.

When I was a little chap in roundabouts they used to take me to his church every Sunday, and keep me in wriggling torments through a three-hours' sermon.

Yes, I know him, to my sorrow." "He is a clergyman, then ?" Mollie said, slowly.
Mr.Ingelow stared at the odd question.
"I have always labored under that impression, Miss Dane, and so does the Reverend Mr.Rashleigh himself, I fancy.