r answer to his reply; she
now named Miss Derwent's wooer, and spoke as if the marriage were
practically a settled thing. This turned to an ordeal for Piers what
would otherwise have been a pleasure, his call upon John Jacks. He had
to dine at Queen's Gate; he had to converse with Arnold Jacks; and for
the first time in his life he knew the meaning of personal jealousy.

The sight of Irene's successful lover made active in him what had for
years been only a latent passion. All at once it seemed impossible that
he should have lost what hitherto he had scarcely ever felt it possible
to win. An unconsciously reared edifice of hope collapsed about him,
laid waste his life, left him standing in desolate revolt against fate.
Arnold Jacks was the embodiment of a cruel destiny; Piers regarded him,
not so much with hate, as with a certain bitter indignation. He had no
desire to disparage the man, to caricature his assailable points;
rather, in undiminished worship of Irene, he exaggerated the qualities
which had won her, the power to which her gallant pride had yielded.
These qualities, that power, were so unlike anything in himself, that
they gave boundless scope to a jealous imagination. He knew so little
of the man, of his pursuits, his society, his prospects or ambitions.
But he could not imagine that Irene's love would be given to any man of
ordinary type; there must be a nobility in John Jacks' son, and indeed,
knowing the father, one could readily believe it. Piers suffered a
cruel sense of weakness, of littleness, by comparison.

And Arnold behaved so well to him, with such frank graceful courtesy;
to withhold the becoming return was to feel oneself a shrinking
creature, basely envious.

It was at Mrs. Hannaford's suggestion that he asked to be allowed to
call on Olga. A few days later, having again exchanged letters with
Irene's aunt, he sat writing in the office after business hours, his
door and that of the anteroom both open. Footsteps on the staircase had
become infrequent since the main exodus of clerks; he listened whenever
there was a sound, and looked towards the entrance. There, at length,
appeared a lady, Mrs. Hannaford herself. Piers went forward, and
greeted her without words, motioning her with his hand into the inner
office; the outer door he latched.

"So I have tracked you to your lair!" exclaimed the visitor, with a
nervous laugh, as she sank in fatigue upon the chair he placed for her.
"I looked fo