, not quite knowing what she was
saying.

"But you don't say whether you forgive him or not, Rachel," said Sir
William, whose idea of carrying off the situation was to indulge in the
time-honoured banter suitable to those about to become engaged.

"Don't ask her to say too much at once," Lady Gore said quickly,
realising far better than Rachel's father did what was passing in the
girl's mind.

"I'm afraid I can't say very much yet," Rachel said hesitatingly.

"I don't want you to say very much," said Rendel, "or indeed anything if
you don't want to," he ended somewhat lamely and entreatingly.

"Miss Tarlton!" announced the servant, throwing the door open.

The four people in the room looked at each other in consternation.
Events had succeeded each other so quickly that no one had thought of
providing against the contingency of inopportune visitors by saying Lady
Gore was not at home. It was too late to do anything now. Miss Tarlton
happily had no misgivings about her reception. It never crossed her mind
that she could be unwelcome, especially to-day that she had brought with
her some photographs taken from the Gores' own balcony some weeks
before, on the occasion of some troops having passed along Prince's
Gate. She had half suggested on that occasion that she should come, in
order that she might have a post of vantage from which to take some of
the worst photographs in London, and the Gores had not had the heart to
refuse her. If she had had any doubt, however--which she had not--about
her hosts' feelings in the matter, she would have felt that she had now
made up for everything by bringing them the result of her labours, and
that nothing could be more opportune or more agreeable than her entrance
on this particular occasion.

Miss Tarlton was a single woman of independent means living alone, a
destiny which makes it almost inevitable that there should be a
luxuriant growth of individual peculiarities which have never needed to
accommodate themselves to the pressure of circumstances or of
companionship. She was perfectly content with her life, and none the
less so although those to whom she recounted the various phases of it
were not so content at second hand with hearing the recital of it. She
was one of those fortunate persons who have a hobby which takes the
place of parents, husband, children, relations--a hobby, moreover, which
appears to afford a delight quite independent of the varying degrees of
success