one of his own fossils, we have
only to manage for this year, and we must come into our money when
Emmeline is twenty-one. But I have no fear. He will relent, and we shall
be comfortably settled under the paternal roof long before Christmas.

"What did old Clifton say and do when he found I had bolted? And how did
the Easter services go off? Those blessed Easter services that he was in
such a state of mind about! Was he very savage? Send me as graphic a
description as you can.

"Excuse a smudge, but Emmeline and I are bound to do a good deal of
hugging and kissing just now--a honeymoon after an elopement is
something remarkably sweet, as you may suppose--and her sleeve brushed
the wet ink. This particular embrace was on the occasion of her
departure to put on her things. We are going out.

"Don't they say that married women always give up their accomplishments?
Emmeline is a married woman, therefore Emmeline will give up her music.
How soon do you suppose she will begin?"

Half a page more of Bertie's random scribble brought him to a
conclusion, but it was not a final one, for he had added a couple of
lines: "P.S. Persuade J. to shake herself free of Brenthill as soon as
possible: there can be no need for her to work now, thank God! You know
it has always been my day-dream and hope to provide for her. You must
come and see us too. Come soon, before we go to my father-in-law's.
Good-bye: we are off.--P.S. No. 2. No, we are not. E. has forgotten her
parasol, and is gone for it. How is Lydia? What did she say when she
heard the news? I suppose by this time everybody knows it."

Percival's lip curved with scorn and disgust as he refolded the letter,
in which Emmeline, Judith and Lydia jostled each other as they might
have done in a bad dream. Then he looked up, being suddenly aware of
eyes that were fixed upon him.

Miss Bryant stood in the doorway: "You've heard from _him_, Mr. Thorne?"

Percival did not choose to answer as if he were in Miss Bryant's secrets
and knew as a matter of course that "_him_" meant Lisle. Neither did he
choose to say that he did not know who was intended by the energetic
pronoun. He looked back at Lydia politely and inquiringly, as if he
awaited further information before he could be expected to reply.

"Oh, you know," said Lydia scornfully. "You have heard from Mr. Bertie
Lisle?"

"Yes," Percival acquiesced gravely.

"Well?"

"Well--what, Miss Bryant?"

"What does he say?" Lydia d