Her two hands fastened very tightly upon the back of
a chair. There was something indescribably pathetic in the action. She
seemed on the verge of saying more, but in the end she did not say it.
She just stood looking at him with the wide grey eyes that tried so hard
not to be tragic.

Jeff stood looking back with great sturdiness and not much apparent
feeling. He offered no word of condolence or sympathy. Only after a very
decided pause he said, "I wonder what you will do?"

"I am going to London," she said.

"Soon?" Jeff's voice was curt, almost gruff.

"Yes, very soon." She hesitated momentarily, then went on rapidly, as if
it were a relief to tell someone. "My father's life was insured. It has
left my stepmother enough to live on; but, of course, not here. The
place is mortgaged up to the hilt. I have nothing at all. I have got to
make my own living."

"You?" said Jeff.

She smiled again faintly, "Yes, I. What is there in that? Lots of women
work for their living."

"You are not going to work for yours," he said.

She thrust the chair from her with a quick little movement of the hands.
"I would begin to-morrow--if I only knew how. But I don't--yet. I've got
to look about me for a little. I am going first to a cousin at
Kensington."

"Who doesn't want you," said Jeff.

She looked at him in sharp surprise. "Who--who told you that?"

"You did," he said doggedly. "At least, you told Mr. Chesyl--in my
presence."

"Ah, I remember!" She uttered a tremulous little laugh. "That was the
day I caught you eavesdropping and ordered you off your own ground."

"It was," said Jeff. "I heard several things that day, and I
guessed--other things." He paused, still looking straight at her. "Miss
Elliot," he said, "wouldn't it be easier for you to marry than to work
for your living?"

The pretty brows went up in astonishment. "Oh!" she said, in quick
confusion. "You heard that too?"

"Wouldn't it be easier?" persisted Jeff in his slow, stubborn way.

She shook her head swiftly and vehemently. "I shall never marry Mr.
Chesyl," she said with determination.

"Where is he?" asked Jeff.

The soft colour rose in her face at the question. She looked away from
him for the first time. "I don't quite know where he is. I believe he is
up north somewhere--in Scotland."

"He knows what has been happening here?" questioned Jeff.

She made a slight movement as of protest. "No doubt," she said in a low
voice.

Jeff's squar