ad caused it all. She went
into the kitchen and watched the servant wrestle inadequately with her
work, then wandered back to the parlor and slammed the lid of the trunk
down to shut out the reproach of her mother's possessions. It was
growing late. Soon she must get ready to start for the theater. What a
failure she was! The front door bell rang and Jenny, glad of relief from
her thoughts, went to open it. Trewhella, wringing wet, stepped into the
passage.

"Why, Miss Raeburn," he said, "here's a grand surprise."

"Have you had your tea?" the hostess inquired.

"Ess, had tea an hour ago or more. Dirty weather, 'tis, sure enough."

He had followed her into the parlor as he spoke, and in the gray gloom
he seemed to her gigantic and like rock immovable.

"Finished your business?" she asked, oppressed by the silence which
succeeded his entrance.

"Ess, this right of way is settled for good or bad, according to which
one's happy. And now I've got nothing to do but wait for your answer."

The lamplighter's click and dying footfall left the room in a ghostly
radiance, and the pallid illumination streaming through the lace
curtains threw their reflection on the walls and table in a filigree of
shadows.

"I'll light the gas," said Jenny.

"No, don't; but hark to what I do say. I'm regular burnt up for love of
'ee. My heart is like lead so heavy for the long waiting. Why won't 'ee
marry me, my lovely? 'Tis a proper madness of love and no mistake. Maid
Jenny, what's your answer?"

"All right. I will marry you," she said coldly. "And now let me turn on
the gas."

She struck a match, and in the wavering glow she saw his form loom over
her.

"No," she half screamed; "don't kiss me. Not yet. Not yet. People can
see through the window."

"Leave 'em stare so hard as they've a mind to. What do it matter to we?"

"No, don't be silly. I don't want to start kissing. Besides, I must run.
I'm late for the theater."

"Darn the theater. You don't want to go there no more."

"I must give a fortnight's notice."

Mr. Z. Trewhella, a little more than fox, perceived it would not take
much to make her repudiate her promise and wisely did not press the
point.

"Will I putt 'ee down along a little bit of the road?" he asked.

"No, no. I'm in a hurry. Not to-night."

Presently, in the amber fog that on wet nights suffuses the inside of a
tram, Jenny rode down towards the Tube station, picturing to herself her
little sister in