bring herself to ask a question.

Under any circumstances Clara would ill have borne a suspense that
irritated her pride, and at present she lived amid conditions so
repugnant, that her nerves were ceaselessly strung almost beyond
endurance. Before entering upon this engagement she had formed but an
imperfect notion of what would be demanded of her. To begin with, Mrs.
Tubbs belonged to the order of women who are by nature slave-drivers;
though it was her interest to secure Clara for a permanency, she began
by exacting from the girl as much labour as could possibly be included
in their agreement. The hours were insufferably long; by nine o'clock
each evening Clara was so outworn that with difficulty she remained
standing, yet not until midnight was she released. The unchanging
odours of the place sickened her, made her head ache, and robbed her of
all appetite. Many of the duties were menial, and to perform them
fevered her with indignation. Then the mere waiting upon such men as
formed the majority of the customers, vulgarly familiar, when not
insolent, in their speech to her, was hateful beyond anything she had
conceived. Had there been no one to face but her father, she would have
returned home and resumed her old occupation at the end of the first
fortnight, so extreme was her suffering in mind and body; but rather
than give Sidney Kirkwood such a triumph, she would work on, and
breathe no word of what she underwent. Even in her anger against him,
the knowledge of his forgiving disposition, of the sincerity of his
love, was an unavowed support. She knew he could not utterly desert
her; when some day he sought a reconciliation, the renewal of conflict
between his pride and her own would, she felt, supply her with new
courage.

Early one Saturday afternoon she was standing by the windows, partly
from heavy idleness of thought, partly on the chance that Kirkwood
might go by, when a young, well-dressed man, who happened to be passing
at a slow walk, turned his head and looked at her. He went on, but in a
few moments Clara, who had moved back into the shop, saw him enter and
come forwards. He took a seat at the counter and ordered a luncheon.
Clara waited upon him with her customary cold reserve, and he made no
remark until she returned him change out of the coin he offered.

Then he said with an apologetic smile:

'We are old acquaintances, Miss Hewett, but I'm afraid you've forgotten
me.'

Clara regarded him in