l murmuring apologies, went, and Mr. Mott, also murmuring,
returned to bed. The night was chilly, and it was some time before he
could get to sleep again. He succeeded at last, only to be awakened an
hour later by a knocking more violent than before. In a state of mind
bordering upon frenzy, he dived into his trousers again and went
blundering downstairs in the dark.

"Sorry to--" began Mr. Hurst.

Mr. Mott made uncouth noises at him.

"I have altered my mind," said the young man. "Would you mind letting me
have that letter back again? It was too final."

"You--get--off!" said the other, trembling with cold and passion.

"I must have that letter," said Mr. Hurst, doggedly. "All my future
happiness may depend upon it."

Mr. Mott, afraid to trust himself with speech, dashed upstairs, and after
a search for the matches found the letter, and, returning to the front
door, shut it on the visitor's thanks. His niece's door opened as he
passed it, and a gentle voice asked for enlightenment.

"How silly of him!" she said, softly. "I hope he won't catch cold.
What did you say?"

"I was coughing," said Mr. Mott, hastily.

"You'll get cold if you're not careful," said his thoughtful niece.
"That's the worst of men, they never seem to have any thought. Did he
seem angry, or mournful, or what? I suppose you couldn't see his face?"

"I didn't try," said Mr. Mott, crisply. "Good night."

By the morning his ill-humour had vanished, and he even became slightly
facetious over the events of the night. The mood passed at the same
moment that Mr. Hurst passed the window.

"Better have him in and get it over," he said, irritably.

Miss Garland shuddered.

"Never!" she said, firmly. "He'd be down on his knees. It would be too
painful. You don't know him."

"Don't want to," said Mr. Mott.

He finished his breakfast in silence, and, after a digestive pipe,
proposed a walk. The profile of Mr. Hurst, as it went forlornly past the
window again, served to illustrate Miss Garland's refusal.

"I'll go out and see him," said Mr. Mott, starting up. "Are you going to
be a prisoner here until this young idiot chooses to go home? It's
preposterous!"

He crammed his hat on firmly and set out in pursuit of Mr. Hurst, who was
walking slowly up the street, glancing over his shoulder. "Morning!"
said Mr. Mott, fiercely. "Good morning," said the other.

"Now, look here," said Mr. Mott. "This has gone far enough, and