a head like a sieve. Two came by the last mail. I didn't
forward them, because I was coming myself."

"You don't mean to tell me you've forgotten them!"

"No; here they are."

Nora took them with a show of eagerness. "They don't look very
exciting," she said, glancing at them. "One's from Agnes Pringle, the
lady's companion that I used to know at Tunbridge Wells, you remember.
And the other's from Mr. Wynne."

"Who's he?"

"Oh, he was Miss Wickham's solicitor. He wrote to me once before to say
he hoped I was getting on all right. I don't think I want to hear from
people in England any more," she said in a low voice, more to herself
than to him, tossing the letters on the table.

"My dear, why do you say that?"

"It's no good thinking of the past, is it?"

"Aren't you going to read your letters?"

"Not now; I'll read them when I'm alone."

"Don't mind me."

"It's silly of me; but letters from England always make me cry."

"Nora! Then you aren't happy here."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Then why haven't you written to me but once since you were married?"

"I hadn't anything to say. And then," carrying the war into the enemy's
quarter, "I'd been practically turned out of your house."

"I don't know what to make of you. Frank Taylor's kind to you and all
that sort of thing, isn't he?"

"Very. But don't cross-examine me, there's a dear."

"When I asked you to come and make your home with me, I thought it
mightn't be long before you married. But I didn't expect you to marry
one of the hired men."

"Oh, my dear, please don't worry about me." Nora was about at the end of
her endurance.

"It's all very fine to say that; but you've got no one in the world
belonging to you except me."

"Don't, I tell you."

"Nora!"

"Now listen. We've never quarreled once since the first day I came here.
Now are you satisfied?"

She said it bravely, but it was with a feeling of unspeakable relief
that she saw Reggie Hornby at the door.

She certainly had never before been so genuinely glad to see him. As she
smilingly held out her hand, her eye took in his changed appearance.
Gone were the overalls and the flannel shirt, the heavy boots and broad
belt. Before her stood the Reggie of former days in a well-cut suit of
blue serge and spotless linen. She was surprised to find herself
thinking, after all, men looked better in flannels.

"I was wondering what on earth you were doing with yourself," she said
gayly.

"I