exactly jump, but it nearly jumped.

Presently, Stephen brought his acquaintance into the drawing-room.

"My wife," said Stephen, rubbing his hands. "Vera, this is Mr
Bittenger, of New York. He will give us the pleasure of spending the
night here."

And now Vera's little heart really did jump.

She behaved with the delicious wayward grace which she could always
command when she chose to command it. No one would have guessed that
she had not spoken to Stephen for a week.

'I'm most happy--most happy,' said Mr Bittenger, with a marked accent
and a fine complimentary air. And obviously he was most happy. Vera had
impressed him. There was nothing surprising in that. She was in the
fullness of her powers in that direction.

It is at this point--at the point of the first jumping of Vera's
heart--that the tale begins to be uncanny and disturbing. Thus runs the
explanation.

During the year Stephen had gradually grown more and more preoccupied
with the subject of his own health. The earthenware business was very
good, although, of course, manufacturers were complaining just as
usual. Trade, indeed, flourished to such an extent that Stephen had
pronounced himself to be suffering from nervous strain and overwork.
The symptoms of his malady were chiefly connected with the assimilation
of food; to be brief, it was dyspepsia. And as Stephen had previously
been one of those favoured people who can eat anything at any hour, and
arise in the best of health the next day, Stephen was troubled. At
last--about August, when he was obliged to give up wine--he had
suddenly decided that the grimy air of the Five Towns was bad for him,
and that the household should be removed to Sneyd. And removed to Sneyd
it accordingly was. The new house was larger and more splendid even
than the Cheswardine abode at Bursley. But Vera did not like the
change. Vera preferred the town. Nevertheless, she could not openly
demur, since Stephen's health was supposed to be at stake.

During the autumn she was tremendously bored at Sneyd. She had
practically no audience for her pretty dresses, and her friends would
not flock over from Bursley because of the difficulty of getting home
at night. Then it was that Vera had the beautiful idea of spending
Christmas in Switzerland. Someone had told her about a certain hotel
called The Bear, where, on Christmas Day, never less than a hundred
well-dressed and wealthy English people sat down to an orthodox
Christmas