me to _me_. She said she had heard of me from
someone who used to be employed at our place. That was flattering. I
showed my sense of it. Then I asked her name, and she said it was Miss
Madeley."

A gust threw rain against the windows. Narramore paused, looking into
the fire, and smiling thoughtfully.

CHAPTER XXIII

"You foresee the course of the narrative?"

"Better tell it in detail," muttered Hilliard.

"Why this severe tone? Do you anticipate something that will shock your
moral sense? I didn't think you were so straitlaced."

"Do you mean to say----"

Hilliard was sitting upright; his voice began on a harsh tremor, and
suddenly failed. The other gazed at him in humorous astonishment.

"What the devil do you mean? Even suppose--who made you a judge and a
ruler? This is the most comical start I've known for a long time. I was
going to tell you that I have made up my mind to marry the girl."

"I see--it's all right----"

"But do you really mean," said Narramore, "that anything else would
have aroused your moral indignation?"

Hilliard burst into a violent fit of laughter. His pipe fell to the
floor, and broke; whereupon he interrupted his strange merriment with a
savage oath.

"It was a joke, then?" remarked his friend.

"Your monstrous dulness shows the state of your mind. This is what
comes of getting entangled with women. You need to have a sense of
humour."

"I'm afraid there's some truth in what you say, old boy. I've been
conscious of queer symptoms lately--a disposition to take things with
absurd seriousness, and an unwholesome bodily activity now and then."

"Go on with your tragic story. The girl asked you to find her a
place----"

"I promised to think about it, but I couldn't hear of anything
suitable. She had left her address with me, so at length I wrote her a
line just saying I hadn't forgotten her. I got an answer on black-edged
paper. Miss Madeley wrote to tell me that her father had recently died,
and that she had found employment at Dudley; with thanks for my
kindness--and so on. It was rather a nicely written letter, and after a
day or two I wrote again. I heard nothing--hardly expected to; so in a
fortnight's time I wrote once more. Significant, wasn't it? I'm not
fond of writing letters, as you know. But I've written a good many
since then. At last it came to another meeting. I went over to Dudley
on purpose, and saw Miss Madeley on the Castle Hill. I had liked the
lo