eing thanked, or doesn't want
to see us again,' said Dolly; 'if he did, he'd call, you know; you
wrote the address on the paper.'

Mabel had already arrived at the same conclusion, and was secretly a
little piqued and hurt by it; she had gone slightly out of her way to
give him an opportunity of seeing her again if he wished, and he had
not chosen to take advantage of it; it had not seriously disturbed her
peace of mind, but her pride was wounded notwithstanding. At times she
was ready to believe that there had been some mistake or miscarriage
with her message, otherwise it was strange that the admiration which
it had not been difficult to read in his eyes should have evaporated
in this way.

'Why, here's papa--home already!' cried Dolly, as the door opened and
a tall man entered. 'How do you do, papa? you've rumpled my bow--you
didn't think I _meant_ it, did you? you can do it again if you
like--_I_ don't mind a bit; mother does.'

He had duly returned the affectionate hug with which Dolly had greeted
him, but now he put her aside with a rather preoccupied air, and went
to his wife's chair, kissing the smooth forehead she presented, still
absently.

'You are early, Gerald,' she said; 'did the courts rise sooner
to-day?'

'No,' he said conscientiously, 'it's the Vacation now--I left chambers
as soon as I could get away,' and he was folding and unfolding the
evening paper he had brought in with him, as he stood silent before
the fire.

Mr. Langton was not much over fifty, and a handsome man still, with
full clear eyes, a well-cut chin and mouth, iron-grey whiskers, and a
florid complexion which years spent in stifling law-courts and dust
and black laden chambers had not done much to tone down. Young
barristers and solicitors' clerks were apt to consider him rather a
formidable personage in Lincoln's Inn; and he was certainly imposing
as he rustled along New Square or Chancery Lane, his brows knitted, a
look of solemn importance about his tightly-closed lips, and his silk
gown curving out behind him like a great black sail. He had little
imperious ways in court, too, of beckoning a client to come to him
from the well, or of waving back a timid junior who had plucked his
gown to draw his attention to some suggestion with a brusque 'Not
now--I can't hear that now!' which suggested immeasurable gulfs
between himself and them. But at home he unbent, a little consciously,
perhaps, but he did unbend--being proud and fo