a friend of theirs, p'r'aps
I hadn't oughtn't to a' mentioned it. It just come to my lips in the
way o' tallin'. Of course I don't know nothin' about the young woman
myself; it's only what you comes to 'ear in the way o' talkin', you
know.'

This apology was doubtless produced by the listener's troubled
countenance. Jane asked no further question, but said she would come to
see Pennyloaf on the morrow, and so took her leave.

At ten o'clock next morning, just when Jane was preparing for her visit
to Merlin Place, so possessed with anxiety to ascertain if Pennyloaf
knew anything about Clara Hewett that all her troubles were for the
moment in the back ground, Bessie Byass came running upstairs with a
strange announcement. Sidney Kirkwood had called, and wished to see
Miss Snowdon in private for a few minutes.

'Something must have happened,' said Jane, her heart standing still.

Bessie had a significant smile, but suppressed it when she noticed the
agitation into which her friend was fallen.

'Shall I ask him up into the front room?'

Michael was in his own chamber, which he had not left this morning. On
going to the parlour Jane found her visitor standing in expectancy.
Yes, something had happened; it needed but to look at him to be
convinced of that. And before a word was spoken Jane knew that his
coming had reference to Clara Hewett, knew it with the strangest
certainty.

'I didn't go to work this morning,' Sidney began, 'because I was very
anxious to see you--alone. I have something to speak about--to tell
you.'

'Let us sit down.'

Sidney waited till he met her look; she regarded him without
self-consciousness, without any effort to conceal her agitated interest.

'You see young Hewett and his wife sometimes. Have you heard from
either of them that Clara Hewett is living with her father again?'

'Not from them. A person in their house spoke about it yesterday. It
was the first I had heard.'

'Spoke of Miss Hewett? In a gossiping way, do you mean?'

'Yes.'

'Then you know what has happened to her?'

'If the woman told the truth.'

There was silence.

'Miss Snowdon--'

'Oh, I don't like you to speak so. You used to call me Jane.'

He looked at her in distress. She had spoken impulsively, but not with
the kind of emotion the words seem to imply. It was for his sake, not
for hers, that she broke that formal speech.

'You called me so when I was a child, Mr. Kirkwood,' she continued,
smiling fo