me back?" he asked, as if
casually.

"Oh, yes. If I stay in England, I hope to live somewhere near her.
Perhaps I shall take rooms in London, and work at water-colours and
black-and-white. Unless I go to the Basque country, where my sister is.
Don't you think, Mr. Warburton, one might make a lot of drawings in the
Pyrenees, and then have an exhibition of them in London? I have to earn
my living, and I must do something of that kind."

Whilst Will was shaping his answer Mrs. Pomfret came toward them from
the house, and the current of the conversation was turned. Presently
Ralph summoned his guest to the book-room, where they talked till the
kindly hour of tea. But before setting out for his homeward journey,
Warburton had another opportunity of exchanging words with Miss Elvan
in the garden.

"Well, I shall hear what you decide to do," he said, bluffly. "If you
go to the Pyrenees--but I don't think you will."

"No, perhaps not. London rather tempts me," was the girl's dreamy reply.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"I must get Bertha's advice--Miss Cross'."

Will nodded. He was about to say something, but altered his mind; and
so the colloquy ended.

CHAPTER 27

Toward ten o'clock that evening, Warburton alighted from a train at
Notting Hill Gate, and walked through heavy rain to the abode of
Norbert Franks. With satisfaction, he saw the light at the great window
of his studio, and learnt from the servant who admitted him that Franks
had no company. His friend received him with surprise, so long was it
since Warburton had looked in unexpectedly.

"Nothing amiss?" said Franks, examining the hard-set face, with its
heavy eyes, and cheeks sunken.

"All right. Came to ask for news, that's all."

"News? Ah, I understand. There's no news."

"Still reflecting?"

"Yes. Keeping away, just to see how I like it. Sensible that, don't you
think?"

Warburton nodded. The conversation did not promise much vivacity, for
Franks looked tired, and the visitor seemed much occupied with his own
thoughts. After a few words about a canvas which stood on the
easel--another woman the artist was boldly transforming into
loveliness--Will remarked carelessly that he had spent the day at
Ashtead.

"By Jove, I ought to go and see those people," said Franks.

"Better wait a little, perhaps," returned the other with a smile. "Miss
Elvan is with them."

"Ah! Lucky you told me--not that it matters much," added Franks, after
a mome