"I shall be more at home now, Kitty."

"Shall you indeed? Then I'll not say another word to vex you. What on
earth can I want, Tom, except just that you should sit at home with
me sometimes on evenings, as you used to do always in the old days?
And as for Martha Biggs--"

"Is she come back too?"

"Oh dear no. She's in Red Lion Square. And I'm sure, Tom, I never had
her here except when you wouldn't dine at home. I wonder whether you
know how lonely it is to sit down to dinner all by oneself!"

"Why; I do it every other day of my life. And I never think of
sending for Martha Biggs; I promise you that."

"She isn't very nice, I know," said Mrs. Furnival--"that is, for
gentlemen."

"I should say not," said Mr. Furnival. Then the reconciliation had
been effected, and Mrs. Furnival went up stairs to prepare for
dinner, knowing that her husband would be present, and that Martha
Biggs would not. And just as she was taking her accustomed place at
the head of the table, almost ashamed to look up lest she should
catch Spooner's eye who was standing behind his master, Rachel went
off in a cab to Orange Street, commissioned to pay what might be due
for the lodgings, to bring back her mistress's boxes, and to convey
the necessary tidings to Miss Biggs.

"Well I never!" said Martha, as she listened to Rachel's story.

"And they're quite loving I can assure you," said Rachel.

"It'll never last," said Miss Biggs triumphantly--"never. It's been
done too sudden to last."

"So I'll say good-night if you please, Miss Biggs," said Rachel, who
was in a hurry to get back to Harley Street.

"I think she might have come here before she went there; especially
as it wasn't anything out of her way. She couldn't have gone shorter
than Bloomsbury Square, and Russell Square, and over Tottenham Court
Road."

"Missus didn't think of that, I dare say."

"She used to know the way about these parts well enough. But give her
my love, Rachel." Then Martha Biggs was again alone, and she sighed
deeply.

It was well that Mrs. Furnival came back so quickly to her own house,
as it saved the scandal of any domestic quarrel before her daughter.
On the following day Sophia returned, and as harmony was at that time
reigning in Harley Street, there was no necessity that she should
be presumed to know anything of what had occurred. That she did
know,--know exactly what her mother had done, and why she had done
it, and how she had come back, leavin