ing
holiday, if he looked through the guide-books, and jotted down the
outline of such a walking-tour as she had in mind. This he had done,
and the results were written out on an enclosed sheet of paper. Rhoda
allowed a day to intervene, then sent a reply. She thanked Mr. Barfoot
sincerely for the trouble he had so kindly taken. 'I see you limit me
to ten miles a day. In such scenery of course one doesn't hurry on, but
I can't help informing you that twenty miles wouldn't alarm me. I think
it very likely that I shall follow your itinerary, after my week of
bathing and idling. I leave on Monday week.'

Barfoot did not call again. Every evening she sat in expectation of his
coming. Twice Miss Barfoot was away until a late hour, and on those
occasions, after dinner, Rhoda sat in complete idleness, her face
declaring the troubled nature of 'her thoughts. On the Sunday before
her departure she took a sudden resolve and went to call upon Monica at
Herne Hill.

Mrs. Widdowson, she learnt from the servant, had left home about an
hour since.

'Is Mr. Widdowson at home?'

Yes, he was. And Rhoda waited for some time in the drawing-room until
he made his appearance. Of late Widdowson had grown so careless in the
matter of toilet, that an unexpected visit obliged him to hurry through
a change of apparel before he could present himself. Looking upon him
for the first time for several months, Rhoda saw the misery was
undermining the man's health. Words could not have declared his trouble
more plainly than the haggard features and stiff, depressed,
self-conscious manner. He fixed his sunken eyes upon the visitor, and
smiled, as was plain, only for civility's sake. Rhoda did her best to
seem at ease; she explained (standing, for he forgot to ask her to be
seated) that she was going away on the morrow, and had hoped to see
Mrs. Widdowson, who, she was told, had not been very well of late.

'No, she is not in very good health,' said Widdowson vaguely. 'She has
gone this afternoon to Mrs. Cosgrove's--I think you know her.'

Less encouragement to remain could not have been offered, but Rhoda
conceived a hope of hearing something significant if she persevered in
conversation. The awkwardness of doing so was indifferent to her.

'Shall you be leaving town shortly, Mr. Widdowson?'

'We are not quite sure--But pray sit down, Miss Nunn. You haven't seen
my wife lately?'

He took a chair, and rested his hands upon his knees, gazing at