e again."

"She will be back, then."

"In an hour and a half at latest," says Mrs. Monkton, who after all is
not strong enough to be quite genuine to her better judgments. "But,"
with a start and a fresh determination to be cruel in the cause of
right, "that would be much too long for you to wait for us."

"I shouldn't think it long," says he.

Mrs. Monkton smiles suddenly at him. How charming--how satisfactory he
is. Could any lover be more devoted!

"Well, it would be for all that," says she. "But"--hesitating in a last
vain effort to dismiss, and then losing herself--, "suppose you do not
abandon your visit altogether; that you go away, now, and get your lunch
at your club--I feel," contritely, "how inhospitable I am--and then come
back again here about four o'clock. She--I--will have returned by that
time."

"An excellent plan," says he, his face lighting up. Then it clouds
again. "If she knows I am to be here?"

"Ah! that is a difficulty," says Mrs. Monkton, her own pretty face
showing signs of distress. "But anyhow, risk it."

"I would rather she knew, however," says he steadily. The idea of
entrapping her into a meeting with him is abhorrent to him. He had had
enough of that at the Dore Gallery; though he had been innocent of any
intentional deception there.

"I will tell her then," says Mrs. Monkton; "and in the meantime go and
get your----"

At this moment the door on the right is thrown open, and Tommy, with a
warhoop, descends upon them, followed by Mabel.

"Oh! it's Felix!" cries he joyfully. "Will you stay with us, Felix?
We've no one to have dinner with us to-day. Because mammy is going away,
and Joyce is gone, and pappy is nowhere; and nurse isn't a bit of
good--she only says, 'Take care you don't choke yourselves, me
dearies!'" He imitates nurse to the life. "And dinner will be here in a
minute. Mary says she's just going to bring it upstairs."

"Oh, do--do stay with us," supplements little Mabel, thrusting her small
hand imploringly into his. It is plain that he is in high favor with the
children, however out of it with a certain other member of the
family--and feeling grateful to them, Dysart hesitates to say the "No"
that is on his lips. How hard it is to refuse the entreaties of these
little clinging fingers--these eager, lovely, upturned faces!

"If I may----?" says he at last, addressing Mrs. Monkton, and thereby
giving in.

"Oh! as for that! You know you may," says she. "But you