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"I don't think any one is likely to take much notice of me, but I will be careful," Rosina promised, as she drank her coffee hurriedly. "Do you mind if I rush away now? I'm so anxious not to be late the first time. Don't bother to come upstairs with me, please," she added, as her companion showed signs of accompanying her. "You haven't finished your coffee yet. I can find my way quite well. And thank you once more for this wonderful lunch."

Erwen remained on his feet for a moment or two, watching her. Rosina, in spite of the privations of the last few months, seemed to have grown more beautiful every day since her arrival in London. Her complexion was exquisitely clear, and, with her slightly increased fragility, her eyes seemed to have grown larger and more lustrous. Not even her closely fitting hat—a very inexpensive little affair it was—could conceal the coils of silky, golden-brown hair; and, notwithstanding her shabby clothes and clumsy shoes, she carried herself with a quiet grace, an indefinable elegance, which attracted the attention of several of the lunchers seated at the tables around the door. She glanced back, smiled at Erwen, and went on her way unruffled. She thanked the man who pushed open the revolving door for her with such a smile that he looked after her, astonished. The smile lingered on her lips as she stepped out of the place and turned towards the theatre. She was on the threshold of adventure at last!