light cry," he admitted, gravely.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Moore," said Lady Adela, with her most charming
smile, as she began to fold up her notes. "The little piece of realism
you have suggested will come in admirably; and I think I've done enough
for to-day--thanks to Georgie here, who has just been an angel of
patience."

Tea followed, and some idle talk, during which Lionel learned that Lady
Adela and her sisters were going down to Brighton the following day. He
incidentally mentioned Octavius Quirk's name; whereupon his hostess, who
was a sharp and a shrewd woman when she was not dabbling in literature,
instantly and graciously explained to him that she had been
corresponding a good deal with Octavius Quirk of late, over her new
work. She informed him, further, that Octavius Quirk was coming to dine
there that evening--what a pity it was that Mr. Moore was engaged every
evening at the theatre! When Lionel left, she had persuaded him that he
was just as much a favorite as ever; he could very well understand that
she had cultivated Octavius Quirk's acquaintance only in his capacity as
a kind of pseudo-literary person.

Day after day of this lonely week passed; Lionel, all unknown to
himself, was marching onward to his fate. On the Saturday there were
two performances of "The Squire's Daughter;" at night he felt very
tired--which was unusual with him; that, or some other palpable excuse,
was sufficient to take him down to Victoria station on the Sunday
morning. He had forgotten, or put aside, all Maurice Mangan's
cool-blooded presentation of his case; undefined longings were in his
brain; the future was to be quite different from the past--and somehow
Honnor Cunyngham was the central figure in these mirage-like visions. He
had formed no definite plans; he had prepared no persuasive appeal; the
only and immediate thing he knew was that he wished to be in the same
place with her, breathing the same air with her, with the chance of
catching a distant glimpse of her, even if he were himself to remain
unseen. Would she be out walking along the sea-front after church?
Surely so, when she had Lady Adela and her sisters as her guests. And if
not, he would call in the afternoon; how well he remembered the rather
dusky drawing-room and its curious scent of sweet-briar or some similar
perfume. A hushed half-hour there would be something to be treasured up
and conned over again and again in subsequent recollection. Would she b