But Miss Dawson, at that moment, was in spirited controversy with an
elderly, handsomely-dressed customer, whose carriage and pair of horses
awaited her at the pastry-cook's door, who could only remember to have
eaten one slice of walnut cake, while Miss Dawson was of opinion that
she had eaten two.

"Am I not permitted to pay Miss--er--Browne--if I prefer to do so?"

"It is the rule for each customer to pay the young lady who waits on
him."

"Thank you. Miss--er--Browne, when I had the happiness to meet you at
the Workingham Town Hall--at that delightful dance----"

"Pardon me. You did not meet me there. I do not dance."

"You spoke of a wish to read one of--er--Bernard Shaw's plays. I've got
this for you." He produced the hand from the small of his back and
tendered her the book.

She laid down her knitting and rose; a belated customer had appeared.
"I am sorry," she said, without looking at man or book. "The lady you
speak of would doubtless think it very kind of you. I have no wish to
read the plays, and could not possibly take the book."

With the slightest inclination of the head she passed him, and, the
menu card in hand, leant over the newcomer.

Left with the book, Captain Finch poised it in his hand, looking rather
stupidly at it for a few minutes; then tossed it to the mantelpiece,
and went from the room.

The clock had struck six when he came in for tea, that evening, and all
the little tables were empty. Miss Dawson, who was second in command,
was, as usual at that hour, behind the screen; he had come in so
quietly that Lucilla had no chance to rush and take her place. Her face
paled as she saw him. The man was persistent, her strength at the
moment small; there was only her pride to carry her through.

The day had been a busy one, she was fagged, and read in his face that
he saw her to be so. His face, although not a clever one, was so
heavenly kind!

"I won't trouble you to fetch any tea," he said. "If I might be allowed
to--er--stay here and talk to you for a few minutes----"

"Tea or coffee, sir?"

"Oh, well, tea, then--confound the stuff!"

He threw down his hat and stick, and stood while she placed the brown
tray, the tiny teapot, the minute muffin-dish before him. "If you know
how I hate to have you--er--wait on me----" he said; but she gave him
no chance to enlarge on the theme.

He sat for a few minutes over the tea-tray, not touching its contents,
and with his eyes on Lucilla's