on the
possibility of securing a brief in a case which promised to afford one
of the sensations of the year. He had a chance, a promising chance it
had appeared, but that afternoon he had received the news that the brief
had gone past him in favour of another man, no whit more capable than
himself. There were reasons for the choice of which he was ignorant,
but in his morbid depression, the only explanation lay in his own
insignificance, in the higher social standing of his rival. He had
known many such disappointments, and had smarted beneath them, but this
was the final straw which broke down his remaining strength, and as it
chanced he was left alone with Lady Anne after dinner, and she ventured
a timid question as to the cause of his depression.

Of what happened next he had no clear recollection; he answered, and she
sympathised, faltered out a wish that she might help; he thanked her,
and--what did he say next? He could not remember, but he knew that he
had accepted the offered help, and with it the hand of the donor.

There were tears in Lady Anne's eyes as she plighted her troth. It was
the one desire of her heart to share his life. He was the most
wonderful, the most gifted of men. To be able to smooth his way would
be the proudest privilege which the world could afford. She held out
her thin hand as she spoke, and Malham pressed it in his own, and bent
over it in elaborate acknowledgment. The chill of those fingers struck
to his heart; he left the house and, walking along the streets, the
question clamoured insistently at his heart:

_Would she expect him to kiss her_?

He had made an early retreat, and now went straight to Celia's lodgings.
It was part of the strength of his character that he never deferred a
difficult duty, and to-night he knew himself faced with the most painful
ordeal of his life.

Celia was sitting as usual before a pile of exercise books in her shabby
little parlour. Her white blouse was mended in several places, but it
was daintily fresh, and her auburn hair flamed into gold beneath the
hanging lamp. She did not rise as he entered, but tilted herself back
on her chair, and stretched her tired arms with a sigh of welcome.

"Oh, dearest and best, is that you? Oh, how lovely it is when you don't
expect, and the good things come! I was never more happy to see you...
Kiss me several times!"

But he stood stiff and straight on the shabby hearth-rug, and delivered
himself