Meanwhile Mrs. Avory worked hard at her unremunerative tasks, and
trimmed parasols and cut out blouses, and worked hopefully, because she
knew that it would all come right some day, and because Nigel had said
that he loved her. And Nigel wrote regularly to her, and always went
to see her on Sunday when he was in London. And every night of his
life of late he had dreamed of a girl dressed in rose colour, who had
given him her photograph to put on his writing-table.

He read Mrs. Avory's letter again (she wrote probably the worst hand in
Christendom), and when he had spelt the ill-formed words once more, he
discovered that the blotched and scrawled writing contained a
postscript which he had not at first noticed. 'After all, you had
better not come here,' it said, 'but I will run down and see you
to-morrow. It is far the best and wisest plan, and I must say
good-bye. Please expect me by the three o'clock train.' The letter,
as usual, had not been posted in time to reach him in the morning, and
Toffy realized almost with a sense of disaster that to-morrow was now
to-day, and that it was too late to write and expostulate or to suggest
to Mrs. Avory how unwise her visit would be. There was nothing for it
but to order the motor-car and go to the station to meet her, and
afterwards to give her tea in the library, and say to her all the
comforting and consoling things he could think of.

Mrs. Avory appeared more than usually worn and thin this afternoon; and
her eyes, so ready to brim with tears, looked pathetically large in her
sallow little face. She had been sitting up late for many nights to
finish her work, and there had been 'bothers' in her little household
which she took to heart and worried over. Her dress looked worn and
shabby, and her gloves were darned. The nervousness in her manner was
increased by ill-health, and she reiterated that she knew she had done
the best thing in running down here quietly for an hour, and that she
had quite meant to bring her child and the governess; but Dorothy had
not been well, and she did not like either to bring her or to leave her
alone.

'I didn't know until the last minute that they couldn't come,' she
reiterated nervously. Perhaps--who knows?--even she, poor soul, was
dimly conscious that she had done a not very wise deed. But Toffy was
all that was comforting and tender towards her, told her without
flinching that of course she had done the right thing, and that i