He turned.
"I was up nearly at the Prince of Wales's," she said out of breath, "when I saw you crossing the Circus.

My--I ran!" "What for ?" he asked laconically.
"Why to talk to you, of course--what else?
Where are you going ?" He looked at her coloured lips, at the tired eyes with their blackened lashes, at the flush of rouge that adorned her cheeks.

Involuntarily, he remembered when she was charming, pretty--a time when she required none of these things.
"Where are you going anyway ?" she repeated.

"You haven't been to see me these months.

Where are you going now ?" "I'm going back to my rooms." A look of resigned disappointment passed like a shadow across her face.