"Yes, sir;
Miss Palliser is at home." So said the indiscreet female, and Mr.
Spooner was for the moment confounded by his own success. He had
hardly told himself what reception he had expected, or whether, in
the event of the servant informing him at the front door that the
young lady was not at home he would make any further immediate effort
to prolong the siege so as to force an entry; but now, when he had
carried the very fortress by surprise, his heart almost misgave him.
He certainly had not thought, when he descended from his chariot like
a young Bacchus in quest of his Ariadne, that he should so soon be
enabled to repeat the tale of his love. But there he was, confronted
with Ariadne before he had had a moment to shake his godlike locks or
arrange the divinity of his thoughts. "Mr. Spooner," said the maid,
opening the door.
"Oh dear!" exclaimed Ariadne, feeling the vainness of her wish to fly
from the god. "You know, Mary, that Lady Chiltern is up in London."
"But he didn't ask for Lady Chiltern, Miss.
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