ever to mention, lived there. Rachel
had considered this cousin more than once during these last months. She
had resented, from the first, the fact that he was to be given, by the
family, no chance of redemption. However bad he had been (and he had
apparently been very bad indeed) his opportunity should have been
offered to him. His life, she knew, had been hard, he was, like herself,
an orphan, and he hated, as she did, her grandmother. Of course, then,
he interested her.

She did not now say to herself that if this romantic cousin had not been
staying in that house she would not have contemplated a visit to Lizzie.
The Beaminster in her had just now the upper hand, and the Beaminster
simply said that Saxton Square would be a nice place in which Uncle
John, who was, this afternoon, taking her out for a drive, might leave
her whilst he went to the club; later he could pick her up and take her
home.

The Beaminster part of her did not acknowledge the cousin.

Quite casually she said to Uncle John, "I want you to leave me at Miss
Rand's for half an hour this afternoon--she is helping me about some
clothes."

Now Uncle John had during these last weeks continually congratulated
himself on the disappearance of Rachel's irritable, unsettled self.
Always lately one had been presented with her delightful young eager
self and always she had been anxious to agree with Uncle John's
proposals. The world had been going smoothly for him in other ways of
late, and no one had been disagreeable. How pleasant to keep the world
in this amiable condition and how dangerous to risk anyone's
displeasure!

He had moreover almost (not quite) forgotten that his rascal of a nephew
was living in the same house as Miss Rand, and, even if he did remember
it, well, it was quite another part of the house, and in all probability
Miss Rand had never spoken to Frank Breton, nor so much as said good day
to him.

Finally it was so sumptuous a day, and Rachel was clothed in so radiant
a happiness and so fluttering and billowing and chuckling a dress of
white and blue, and he himself was looking so handsome in the most
shining of top-hats, the broadest of black bow ties, the most elegant of
pepper-and-salt trousers and the whitest of white spats, that
complaining or arguing or disputing was utterly out of the question.

"Miss Rand's, my dear? What's the address?... Right you are--" so off
they went.

She arrived to find Miss Rand, a round chubby l