ou to leave London, and that you
couldn't live anywhere else."

"Yes; that was one of my old fancies. I am going right away into the
country, at all events for a year or two. I suppose I shall write
novels."

He moved uneasily under her gaze, and affected a cheerfulness which
could not deceive her.

"Has your book been a success?" Ida asked.

"No; it fell dead."

"Why didn't you give me a copy?"

"I thought too little of it. It's poor stuff. Better you shouldn't read
it."

"But I have read it."

"Got it from the library, did you?"

"No; I bought it."

"What a pity to waste so much money!"

"Why do you speak like that? You know how anything of yours would
interest me."

"Oh yes, in a certain way, of course."

"For its own sake, too. I can't criticise, but I know it held me as
nothing else ever did. It was horrible in many parts, but I was the
better for reading it."

He could not help showing pleasure, and grew more natural. Ida had
purposely refrained from speaking of the book when she read it, more
than a month ago, always hoping that he would be the first to say
something about it. But the news he had brought her to-night put an end
to reticence on her side. She must speak out her heart, cost her what
it might.

"Who should read it, if not I?" she said, as he remained silent. "Who
can possibly understand it half so well as I do?"

"Yes," he remarked, with wilful misunderstanding, "you have seen the
places and the people. And I hear you are going on with the work your
grandfather began?"

"I am trying to do something. If you had been able to give me a little
time now and then, I should have asked you to advise and help me. It is
hard to work there single-handed."

"You are too good for that; I should have liked to think of you as far
apart from those vile scenes."

"Too good for it?" Her voice trembled. "How can any one be too good to
help the miserable? If you had said that I was not worthy of such a
privilege--Can you, knowing me as no one else does or ever will, think
that I could live here in peace, whilst those poor creatures stint and
starve themselves every week to provide me with comforts? Do I seem to
you such a woman?"

He only smiled, his lips tortured to hold their peace.

"I had hoped you understood me better than that. Is that why you have
left me to myself? Do you doubt my sincerity? Why do you speak so
cruelly, saying I am too good, when your real thoughts must be so
diff