me--nothing whatever."

"You try to think not. But the name will be secretly hateful to you as
long as you live."

"Oh! How can you say that! The name is yours, not his. Think how long
we knew you before we heard of him! I am telling the simple truth. It
is you I think of, when----"

He was drawing nearer to her, and again that strange, fixed look came
into his eyes.

"I wanted to ask you something," said Olga quickly. "Do sit down--will
you? Let us talk as we used to--you remember?"

He obeyed her, but kept his eyes on her face.

"What do you wish to ask, Olga?"

The name slipped from his tongue; he had not meant to use it, and did
not seem conscious of having done so.

"Have you seen old Mr. Jacks lately?"

"I saw him last night."

"Last night?" Her breath caught. "Had he anything--anything interesting
to say?"

"He is ill. I only sat with him for half an hour. I don't know what it
is. It doesn't keep him in bed; but he lies on a sofa, and looks
dreadfully ill, as if he suffered much pain."

"He told you nothing?"

Their eyes met.

"Nothing that greatly interested me," replied Piers heavily, with the
most palpable feint of carelessness. "He mentioned what of course you
know, that Arnold Jacks is not going to be married after all."

Olga's head drooped, as she said in a voice barely audible:

"Ah, you knew it."

"What of that?"

"I see--you knew it----"

"What of that, Olga?" he repeated impatiently. "I knew it as a bare
fact--no explanation. What does it mean? You know, I suppose?"

In spite of himself, look and tones betrayed his eagerness for her
reply.

"They disagreed about something," said Olga. "I don't know what. I
shouldn't wonder if they make it up again."

At this moment the woman in care of the house entered with the
tea-tray. To give herself a countenance, Olga spoke of something
indifferent, and when they were alone again, their talk avoided the
personal matters which had so embarrassed both of them. Olga said
presently that she was going to see her friend Miss Bonnicastle
to-morrow.

"If I could see only the least chance of supporting myself, I would go
to live with her again. She's the most sensible girl I know, and she
did me good."

"How, did you good?"

"She helped me against myself," replied Olga abruptly. "No one else
ever did that."

Then she turned again to the safer subjects.

"When shall I see you again?" Otway inquired, rising after a long
silence, durin