against the nurses. And now Dr. Blank!--I seem to be always getting into
scrapes. It is different from hospital, where everything is settled for
one."

Hallin could hardly believe his ears. Such womanish terrors and
depressions from Marcella Boyce! Was she, after all, too young for the
work, or was there some fret of the soul reducing her natural force? He
felt an unwonted impulse of tenderness towards her--such as one might
feel towards a tired child--and set himself to cheer and rest her.

He had succeeded to some extent, when he saw her give a little start,
and following her eyes he perceived that unconsciously his arm, which
was resting on the table, had pushed into her view a photograph in a
little frame, which had been hitherto concealed from her by a glass of
flowers. He would have quietly put it out of sight again, but she sat up
in her chair.

"Will you give it me?" she said, putting out her hand.

He gave it her at once.

"Alice brought it home from Miss Raeburn the other day. His aunt made
him sit to one of the photographers who are always besieging public men.
We thought it good."

"It is very good," she said, after a pause. "Is the hair really--as grey
as that?" She pointed to it.

"Quite. I am very glad that he is going off with Lord Maxwell to Italy.
It will be ten days' break for him at any rate. His work this last year
has been very heavy. He has had his grandfather's to do really, as well
as his own; and this Commission has been a stiff job too. I am rather
sorry that he has taken this new post."

"What post?"

"Didn't you hear? They have made him Under-secretary to the Home
Department. So that he is now in the Government."

She put back the photograph, and moved her chair a little so as to see
more of the plane trees and the strips of sunset cloud.

"How is Lord Maxwell?" she asked presently.

"Much changed. It might end in a sudden break-up at any time."

Hallin saw a slight contraction pass over her face. He knew that she had
always felt an affection for Lord Maxwell. Suddenly Marcella looked
hastily round her. Miss Hallin was busy with a little servant at the
other end of the room making arrangements for supper.

"Tell me," she said, bending over the arm of her chair and speaking in a
low, eager voice, "he is beginning to forget it?"

Hallin looked at her in silence, but his half sad, half ironic smile
suggested an answer from which she turned away.

"If he only would!" she sa