of
that ready sympathy.

"Well," she said at last, "you have nothing to tell me."

"What can I say"--he laughed awkwardly--"that I have not already said?
We have been brought up like brother and sister, but our elders always
expected us to marry when we should be old enough. We have been taking
it easy, Nell and I; thought there was plenty of time, you know."

"And at last you have decided that the plenty of time is up?" she said,
filling the gap in his speech. Her eyes were wondering now. It was a
strange thing to her that lovers should take it easy.

"Yes, that was it."

"Of course, I understand now why you felt you had to go that Thursday in
Holy Week. It was very good of you to give us so much of your time."

"You didn't tell me how you got on, what you did," he said eagerly. He
was glad to escape from the discussion of his too intimate affairs.
"What did you do on Good Friday, after all?"

"Mrs. Morres spent the day with me. It was a lovely day. We went to the
service at St. Hugh's. The music was wonderful. Afterwards we sat by the
open window and talked. My window-box was full of daffodils. They are
just over now. Mrs. Morres said it was like the country. Afterwards I
locked up the flat, put the key in my pocket, discovered a hansom--it
wasn't easy, but 'Tilda, who comes in to tidy up for me every day,
managed it. Her young man is a hansom-driver. I stayed the night at the
Square, and we went down to Hazels next morning."

"Was it good?"

"Exquisite. I finished the book there. We had miraculous weather. I was
able to work out of doors in the very same green garden where her
Ladyship and I worked at the novel last year. The dogs used to sit all
around me: and I believe the birds remembered me. I am sure I recognised
one robin. I came back like a lion refreshed, with the full copy of the
book done up in my portmanteau. Since then I have been enjoying the
sweets of a mind at ease."

"You look it."

She did, indeed, look like a flower refreshed. She was wearing a soft
grey gown with a little good, yellowed lace about the shoulders. The
lace had been a gift from Lady Anne. It gave the final touch of
distinction to Mary's air. She had the warm, pale complexion that goes
well, with grey, and her hair seemed to have more than usual of gold in
it. Standing against the light it was blown out like a little aureole
full of stars. He had thought that he could like her in nothing so well
as her dark blue frock, bu