alcoholic odour; but
Mr. Kite had every appearance of present sobriety. He seemed
chronically tired; sat down with a little sigh of satisfaction;
stretched his legs, and let his arms fall full length. To the maternal
eye, a singular, problematic being, anything but likely to inspire
confidence. Yet he talked agreeably, if oddly; his incomplete sentences
were full of good feeling; above all, he evidently meant to be frank,
put his poverty in the baldest aspect, set forth his hopes with extreme
moderation. "We seem to suit each other," was his quiet remark, with a
glance at Olga; and Mrs. Hannaford could not doubt that he meant well.
But what a match! Scarcely had he gone, when the mother began her
dissuasions, and from that moment there was misery.

For Olga, Mrs. Hannaford had always been ambitious. The girl was
clever, warm-hearted, and in her way handsome. But for the disastrous
father, she would have had every chance of marrying "well." Mrs.
Hannaford was not a worldly woman, and all her secret inclinations were
to romance, but it is hard for a mother to dissociate the thought of
marriage from that of wealth and respectability. Mr. Kite, well-meaning
as he might be, would never do.

To-day there was truce. They talked much of Piers Otway, and in the
afternoon, as had been arranged by letter, both went to the railway
station, to meet the train by which it was hoped he would come--Piers
arrived.

"How much improved!" was the thought of both. He was larger, manlier,
and though still of pale complexion had no longer the bloodless look of
years ago. Walking, he bore himself well; he was self-possessed in
manner, courteous in not quite the English way; brief, at first, in his
sentences, but his face lit with cordiality. On the way to the ladies'
lodgings, he stole frequent glances at one and the other; plainly he
saw change in them, and perhaps not for the better.

Mrs. Hannaford kept mentally comparing him with the scarecrow Kite. A
tremor of speculation took hold upon her; a flush was on her cheeks,
she talked nervously, laughed much.

Nothing was to be said about the flight from home; they were at Epsom
for a change of air. But Mrs. Hannaford could not keep silence
concerning her good fortune; she had revealed it in a few nervous
words, before they reached the house.

"You will live in London?" asked Otway.

"That isn't settled. It would be nice to go abroad again. We liked
Geneva."

"I must tell you about a