house of which Constance had
spoken. At the door, his heart failed him; but retreat could not now be
thought of. Yes, Mrs. Palmer was at home. The servant led him into a
sitting-room on the ground floor, took his name, and left him.

It was nearly ten minutes before Constance appeared. On her face he
read a frank surprise.

'I happened to--to be down here; couldn't resist the temptation'----

'Delighted to see you, Mr. Moxey. But how did you know I was here?'

He gazed at her.

'You--don't you remember? The day before yesterday--in Sussex
Square--you mentioned'----

'Oh, did I?' She laughed. 'I had quite forgotten.'

Christian sank upon his chair. He tried to convince himself that she
was playing a part; perhaps she thought that she had been premature in
revealing her wish to talk with him.

Mrs. Palmer was good-natured. This call evidently puzzled her, but she
did not stint her hospitality. When Christian asked after the children,
they were summoned; two little girls daintily dressed, pretty,
affectionate with their mother. The sight of them tortured Christian,
and he sighed deeply with relief when they left the room. Constance
appeared rather absent; her quick glance at him signified something,
but he could not determine what. In agony of constraint, he rose as if
to go.

'Oh, you will have a cup of tea with me,' said Mrs. Palmer. 'It will be
brought in a few minutes.'

Then she really wished him to stop. Was he not behaving like an obtuse
creature? Why, everything was planned to encourage him.

He talked recklessly of this and that, and got round to the years long
gone by. When the tea came, he was reviving memories of occasions on
which he and she had met as young people. Constance laughed merrily,
declared she could hardly remember.

'Oh, what a time ago!--But I was quite a child.'

'No--indeed, no! You were a young lady, and a brilliant one.'

The tea seemed to intoxicate him. He noticed again that Constance
glanced at him significantly. How good of her to allow him this
delicious afternoon!

'Mr. Moxey,' she said, after meditating a little, 'why haven't you
married? I should have thought you would have married long ago.'

He was stricken dumb. Her jerky laugh came as a shock upon his hearing.

'Married----?'

'What is there astonishing in the idea?'

'But--I--how can I answer you?'

The pretty, characterless face betrayed some unusual feeling. She
looked at him furtively; seemed to suppr