rds, her nerves tingling
and her pulses throbbing with excitement. She was conscious of having
somehow ridded herself of a load of uncertainty and anxiety. She was
committed now at any rate to a definite course. There had been moments
of indecision--moments in which she had been inclined to revert to her
first impressions of the man, which, before she had heard Davenant's
story, had been favourable enough. That was all over now. That pitifully
tragic figure--the man who died with a tardy fortune in his hands, an
outcast in a far off country--had stirred in her heart a passionate
sympathy--reason even gave way before it. She declared war against Mr.
Scarlett Trent.

CHAPTER XX

Ernestine walked from Lincoln's Inn to the office of the Hour, where she
stayed until nearly four. Then, having finished her day's work, she
made her way homewards. Davenant was waiting for her in her rooms. She
greeted him with some surprise.

"You told me that I might come to tea," he reminded her. "If you're
expecting any one else, or I'm in the way at all, don't mind saying so,
please!"

She shook her head.

"I'm certainly not expecting any one," she said. "To tell you the truth
my visiting-list is a very small one; scarcely any one knows where I
live. Sit down, and I will ring for tea."

He looked at her curiously. "What a colour you have, Ernestine!" he
remarked. "Have you been walking fast?"

She laughed softly, and took off her hat, straightening the wavy brown
hair, which had escaped bounds a little, in front of the mirror. She
looked at herself long and thoughtfully at the delicately cut but strong
features, the clear, grey eyes and finely arched eyebrows, the curving,
humorous mouth and dainty chin. Davenant regarded her in amazement.

"Why, Ernestine," he exclaimed, "are you taking stock of your good
looks?"

"Precisely what I am doing," she answered laughing. "At that moment I
was wondering whether I possessed any."

"If you will allow me," he said, "to take the place of the mirror, I
think that I could give you any assurances you required."

She shook her head.

"You might be more flattering," she said, "but you would be less
faithful."

He remained standing upon the hearthrug. Ernestine returned to the
mirror.

"May I know," he asked, "for whose sake is this sudden anxiety about
your appearance?"

She turned away and sat in a low chair, her hands clasped behind her
head, her eyes fixed upon vacancy.

"I