Marian.

'But his connection with Mr Fadge came about in such a natural way,'
added the eldest sister. 'And it was impossible for him to refuse
opportunities.'

'Impossible; I know,' Marian replied earnestly. 'Don't think that I
wish to justify my father. But I can understand him, and it must be very
difficult for you to do so. You can't know, as I do, how intensely he
has suffered in these wretched, ignoble quarrels. If only you will let
me come here still, in the same way, and still be as friendly to me. My
home has never been a place to which I could have invited friends
with any comfort, even if I had had any to invite. There were always
reasons--but I can't speak of them.'

'My dear Marian,' appealed Dora, 'don't distress yourself so! Do believe
that nothing whatever has happened to change our feeling to you. Has
there, Maud?'

'Nothing whatever. We are not unreasonable girls, Marian.'

'I am more grateful to you than I can say.'

It had seemed as if Marian must give way to the emotions which all but
choked her voice; she overcame them, however, and presently was able
to talk in pretty much her usual way, though when she smiled it was
but faintly. Maud tried to lead her thoughts in another direction by
speaking of work in which she and Dora were engaged. Already the sisters
were doing a new piece of compilation for Messrs Jolly and Monk; it was
more exacting than their initial task for the book market, and would
take a much longer time.

A couple of hours went by, and Marian had just spoken of taking her
leave, when a man's step was heard rapidly ascending the nearest flight
of stairs.

'Here's Jasper,' remarked Dora, and in a moment there sounded a short,
sharp summons at the door.

Jasper it was; he came in with radiant face, his eyes blinking before
the lamplight.

'Well, girls! Ha! how do you do, Miss Yule? I had just the vaguest sort
of expectation that you might be here. It seemed a likely night; I
don't know why. I say, Dora, we really must get two or three decent
easy-chairs for your room. I've seen some outside a second-hand
furniture shop in Hampstead Road, about six shillings apiece. There's no
sitting on chairs such as these.'

That on which he tried to dispose himself, when he had flung aside his
trappings, creaked and shivered ominously.

'You hear? I shall come plump on to the floor, if I don't mind. My word,
what a day I have had! I've just been trying what I really could do
in one