prig! Can
you ever forgive me for what I said?"

"But," said Lesley, looking straight into his face with her clear brown
eyes, "if what you said was true?----"

"I had no right to say it."

"That is true," Lesley answered, coldly; and she turned about as though
she did not wish to pursue the subject.

"But can you not forgive me for it? I was unjustifiably angry I confess;
but since I confess it----"

"Mr. Kenyon, we ought to be going home. I see the woman is waiting to
put the lights out."

"We will go home if you like--certainly," said Maurice, in a tone of
vexed disappointment. "Take care of the step--yes, here is the door. I
am afraid we cannot get a cab in this neighborhood; but as soon as we
reach a more civilized locality, I will do my best to find one for you."

By this time they were in the yard. Night had already fallen on the
city, whether it had done so in the country or not. The lamps were
lighted in the streets; a murky fog had settled like a pall upon the
roads; and in the Sunday silence the church bells rang out with a
mournful cadence which affected Lesley's spirits.

"London is a terrible place," she said, with a little shiver.

"Can you say that," he asked, looking at her curiously, "after seeing
the good work that is being done here? If it is a terrible place, it is
also a very noble and inspiring one."

"I know I am ignorant," said Lesley, heavily. "It seems terrible to me."

They were silent for a minute or two, for they were passing out of the
yard belonging to the "model dwellings," as Macclesfield Buildings were
called, into the squalid street beyond; and in avoiding the group of
loafers smoking the pipe of idleness, and enjoying the comfortable
repose of sloth, Lesley and Mr. Kenyon were so far separated that
conversation became impossible.

"You had better take my arm," said Maurice, shortly, almost sternly.
"You must, indeed: the place is not fit for you. I ought to have gone
out and got a cab."

"Indeed, I do not need it. I can walk quite well. What other people do,
I suppose I can do as well."

"Miss Brooke, you have not forgiven me."

Lesley was silent.

"What can I say? I have no justification. I simply let my tongue and my
temper run away with me. I am cursed with a hot temper: I do not think
before I speak; but I never intended to hurt you, Miss Brooke, I am sure
of that."

"No," said Lesley, very quietly, "I understand you. If you had not
thought me so stupid as