e pointed out, for
them to take any notice of the writ that had been served. Creditors
would obviously be putting themselves to vain expense in suing them
now, and it was therefore best for them to go for a little while where
at least they would be free from being worried.

During the evening Morgan managed to find an opportunity of writing to
Helen a brief account of the day, saying he would look for her answer
at the Dover post-office.

And he and Cleo left London by an early train in the morning.

END OF BOOK III.

BOOK IV.

CHAPTER I.

The son and daughters of the Kettering family were out taking the air,
as the Sunday morning was a fine one, and Morgan sat talking with his
father-in-law in a front room, that was depressing with horse-hair
upholstery and wax fruit under glass shades and a series of prints
representing certain emotional moments in the life of a young
blue-jacket. Cleo was in some distant region of the house with her
mother, who had beamed on Morgan with a most unaccountable
friendliness.

Mr. Simon Kettering himself was a mild-featured little man, whose
Sunday broad-cloth was but a thin disguise of the fact that all the
week he worked amid his journeymen in apron and shirt-sleeves. He wore
spectacles with light steel frames that seemed to cut deep into his
flesh; his hair was fast greying and his face was much lined, which,
however, interfered little with the benevolence of his expression. His
hands were large and coarse-grained and of a tint that no longer
yields to ablutions.

On their arrival, about a quarter of an hour previously, Cleo had left
Morgan in the hall and had gone up to see her parents, returning for
him some five minutes later and introducing him to them in the room in
which he now sat. As he was not present at the actual meeting of Cleo
and the old people, he now asked Mr. Kettering if the sudden
appearance of his daughter after all these years hadn't startled him.

"Me!" exclaimed his father-in-law. "Why, not a bit! When she was only
that big, I soon found out it wasn't any use taking notice of her
goings and comings. The missus has been worrying about her a good
deal. But I always said to her: 'Selina's a girl who can take care of
herself, and sure enough she'll turn up all right one of these fine
days.' It was very wrong of her, though, not to let us have a line
from her for nigh on six years. But I fancy she was always a bit
ashamed of us. Her notions we