at
beside her. He looked straight into her eyes.

"You have been crying," he remarked.

There was no use denying it. And what was there in the good gray-brown
eye, gazing through the monocle, which so moved her by its suggestion of
kindness and--and some new feeling?

"Yes, I have," she admitted. "I don't often--but--well, yes, I have."

"What was it?"

It was the most extraordinary thump her heart gave at this moment. She
had never felt such an absolute thump. It was perhaps because she was
tired. His voice had lowered itself. No man had ever spoken to her
before like that. It made one feel as if he was not an exalted person at
all; only a kind, kind one. She must not presume upon his kindness and
make much of her prosaic troubles. She tried to smile in a proper casual
way.

"Oh, it was a small thing, really," was her effort at treating the
matter lightly; "but it seems more important to me than it would to any
one with--with a family. The people I live with--who have been so kind
to me--are going away."

"The Cupps?" he asked.

She turned quite round to look at him.

"How," she faltered, "did you know about them?"

"Maria told me," he answered, "I asked her."

It seemed such a human sort of interest to have taken in her. She could
not understand. And she had thought he scarcely realised her existence.
She said to herself that was so often the case--people were so much
kinder than one knew.

She felt the moisture welling in her eyes, and stared steadily at the
heather, trying to wink it away.

"I am really glad," she explained hastily. "It is such good fortune for
them. Mrs. Cupp's brother has offered them such a nice home. They need
never be anxious again."

"But they will leave Mortimer Street--and you will have to give up your
room."

"Yes. I must find another." A big drop got the better of her, and
flashed on its way down her cheek. "I can find a room, perhaps, but--I
can't find----" She was obliged to clear her throat.

"That was why you cried?"

"Yes." After which she sat still.

"You don't know where you will live?"

"No."

She was looking so straight before her and trying so hard to behave
discreetly that she did not see that he had drawn nearer to her. But a
moment later she realised it, because he took hold of her hand. His own
closed over it firmly.

"Will you," he said--"I came here, in fact, to ask you if you will come
and live with me?"

Her heart stood still, quite still.