little startled.

"Look here," said Frank. "I'm not going to take any more trouble myself
over this affair. You were a good deal upset yesterday when the lady
came round, and you'll be more upset yet before the thing's over. I
shan't talk to you myself any more: you don't seem to care a hang what I
say; in fact, I'm thinking of moving my lodgings after Christmas. So now
you've got your choice."

He paused.

"On the one side you've got the Major; well, you know him; you know the
way he treats you. But that's not the reason why I want you to leave
him. I want you to leave him because I think that down at the bottom
you've got the makings of a good woman--"

"I haven't," cried Gertie passionately.

"Well, I think you have. You're very patient, and you're very
industrious, and because you care for this man you'll do simply anything
in the world for him. Well, that's splendid. That shows you've got grit.
But have you ever thought what it'll all be like in five years from
now?"

"I shall be dead," wailed Gertie. "I wish I was dead now."

Frank paused.

"And when you're dead--?" he said slowly.

There was an instant's silence. Then Frank took up his discourse again.
(So far he had done exactly what he had wanted. He had dropped two tiny
ideas on her heart once more--hope and fear.)

"Now I've something to tell you. Do you remember the last time I talked
to you? Well, I've been thinking what was the best thing to do, and a
few days ago I saw my chance and took it. You've got a little
prayer-book down at the bottom of your bundle, haven't you? Well, I got
at that (you never let anyone see it, you know), and I looked through
it. I looked through all your things. Did you know your address was
written in it? I wasn't sure it was your address, you know, until--"

Gertie sat up, white with passion.

"You looked at my things?"

Frank looked her straight in the face.

"Don't talk to me like that," he said. "Wait till I've done.... Well, I
wrote to the address, and I got an answer; then I wrote again, and I got
another answer and a letter for you. It came this morning, to the
post-office where I got it."

Gertie looked at him, still white, with her lips parted.

"Give me the letter," she whispered.

"As soon as I've done talking," said Frank serenely. "You've got to
listen to me first. I knew what you'd say: you'd say that your people
wouldn't have you back. And I knew perfectly well from the little things
you'd s