went to another part of the room.

A few minutes later her ear caught the sound for which she was now
waiting--that of a latch-key at the front door. She stepped quickly out
into the passage, where the lamp-light fell upon a tall and robust man
with dark, comely, bearded visage.

"Poor little girl!" he addressed her, affectionately, as he pulled off
his overcoat. "I couldn't help it, Lily; bound to stay."

"Never mind!" was her laughing reply, as she stood on tip-toe and drew
down his face to hers. "I was disappointed, but it's as well you didn't
come to dinner. Sarah had to go away this morning."

"Oh! How's that? How have _you_ managed then?"

They passed into the front room, and Quarrier repeated his inquiries.

"She had a letter from Birmingham," Lilian explained. "Her brother has
been all but killed in some dreadful accident, and he's in a hospital.
I saw she wished to go--so I gave her some money and sent her off as
soon as possible. Perhaps it was her only chance of seeing him alive,
Denzil."

"Yes, yes of course you did right," he answered, after a moment's
hesitation.

"I knew you wouldn't mind a dinner of my cooking--under the
circumstances."

"But what are we to do? You can't take her place in the kitchen till
she comes back."

"I'll get some one for a few days."

"But, confound it! how about to-morrow morning? It's very awkward"----

"Oh, I shall easily manage."

"What?--go down at eight o'clock and light fires! Hang it, no! All
right; I'll turn out and see to breakfast. But you must get another
girl; a second servant, I mean. Yes, you ought really to have two. Get
a decent cook."

"Do you think it necessary?"

Quarrier was musing, a look of annoyance on his face.

"It couldn't have happened more inconveniently," he said, without
regard to Lilian's objection. "I had better tell you at once, Lily:
I've asked a friend of mine to come and dine with us to-morrow."

She started and looked at him with anxious eyes.

"A friend?"

"Yes; Glazzard--the man who spoke to me at Kew Station the other
day--you remember?"

"Oh yes!"

Lilian seated herself by the piano and stroked the keys with the tips
of her fingers. Standing on the hearth-rug, her companion watched her
closely for a moment; his forehead was wrinkled, and he did not seem
quite at ease.

"Glazzard is a very good fellow," he pursued, looking about the room
and thrusting his hands into his trouser-pockets. "I've known him since