was conscious of having dressed with unusual
care--she had pinned a great bunch of fragrant violets in her bosom.
She acknowledged to herself frankly that she was anxious to appear at
her best. For there had come to her, in the midst of her busy life--a
life of strenuous endeavour mingled with many small self-denials--a
certain sense of loneliness--of insufficiency--a new thing to her and
hard to cope with in this great city where friends were few. And last
night, whilst she had been thinking of it, came this note from Brooks
asking if he might come to tea. She had been ashamed of herself ever
since. It was maddening that she should sit waiting for his coming like
a blushing schoolgirl--the colour ready enough to stream into her face
at the sound of his footstep.

He came at last--a surprise in more ways than one. For he had abandoned
the blue serge and low hat of his daily life, and was attired in frock
coat and silk hat--his tie and collar of a new fashion, even his bearing
altered--at least so it seemed to her jealous observation. He was
certainly looking better. There was colour in his pale cheeks, and his
eyes were bright once more with the joy of life. Her dark eyes took
merciless note of these things, and then found seeing at all a little
difficult.

"My dear Mary," he exclaimed, cheerfully--he had fallen into the way of
calling her Mary lately "this is delightful of you to be in. Do you
know that I am really holiday-making?"

"Well," she answered, smiling, "I imagined that you were not on your way
eastwards."

"Where can I sit? May I move these?" He swept aside a little pile of
newspapers and books, and took possession of the seat which she had
purposely appropriated. "The other chairs are so far off, and you seem
to have chosen a dark corner. Eastwards, no. I have been at the
office all the morning, and we have bought the property in Poplar Grove
and the house in Bermondsey. Now I have finished for the day. Doctor's
orders."

"If any one has earned a holiday," she said, quietly, "you have. There
is some cake on the table there."

"Thanks. Well, it was hard work at first. How we stuck at it down at
Stepney, didn't we? Six in the morning till twelve at night. And then
how we rushed ahead. It seems to me that we have been doing nothing but
open branches lately."

"I wonder," she said, "that you have stood it so well. Why don't you go
away altogether for a time? You have such splendid helpers now.

"Oh,