aily
newspaper he had been used to take he now received three; after
breakfast he sometimes spent a couple of hours over the _Times_, and
the evening papers often occupied him from dinner to bedtime. Monica
noticed, with a painful conflict of emotions, that his hair had begun
to lose its uniform colour, and to show streaks that matched with his
grizzled beard. Was _she_ responsible for this?

On the Saturday when she was to visit the Bevises she feared lest he
should propose to go with her. She wished even to avoid the necessity
of telling him where she was going. As she rose from luncheon Widdowson
glanced at her.

'I've ordered the trap, Monica. Will you come for a drive?'

'I have promised to go into the town. I'm very sorry.'

'It doesn't matter.'

This was his latest mode of appealing to her--with an air of pained
resignation.

'For a day or two I haven't felt at all well,' he continued gloomily.
'I thought a drive might do me good.'

'Certainly. I hope it will. When would you like to have dinner?'

'I never care to alter the hours. Of course I shall be back at the
usual time. Shall _you_ be?'

'Oh yes--long before dinner.'

So she got away without any explanation. At a quarter to four she
reached the block of flats in which the Bevises (and Everard Barfoot)
resided. With a fluttering of the heart, she went very quietly
upstairs, as if anxious that her footsteps should not be heard; her
knock at the door was timid.

Bevis in person opened to her.

'Delighted! I thought it _might_ be--'

She entered, and walked into the first room, where she had been once
before. But to her surprise it was vacant. She looked round and saw
Bevis's countenance gleaming with satisfaction.

'My sisters will be here in a few minutes,' he said. 'A few minutes at
most. Will you take this chair, Mrs. Widdowson? How delighted I am that
you were able to come!'

So perfectly natural was his manner, that Monica, after the first
moment of consternation, tried to forget that there was anything
irregular in her presence here under these circumstances. As regards
social propriety, a flat differs in many respects from a house. In an
ordinary drawing-room, it could scarcely have mattered if Bevis
entertained her for a short space until his sisters' arrival; but in
this little set of rooms it was doubtfully permissible for her to sit
_tete-a-tete_ with a young man, under any excuse. And the fact of his
opening the front door himse