e.

"He is here," she murmured. "I thought I should like you to meet him
this evening. Do you mind?"

Mr. Marr entered; a favourable specimen of his kind; strong, comely,
frank of look and speech. Hilliard marvelled somewhat at his choice of
the frail and timid little widow, and hoped upon marriage would follow
no repentance. A friendly conversation between the two men confirmed
them in mutual good opinion. At length Mrs. Hilliard spoke of the offer
of money made by her brother-in-law.

"I don't feel I've any right to it," she said, after explaining the
circumstances. "You know what Maurice has done for me. I've always felt
I was robbing him----"

"I wanted to say something about that," put in the bass-voiced Ezra. "I
want to tell you, Mr. Hilliard, that you're a man I'm proud to know,
and proud to shake hands with. And if my view goes for anything, Emily
won't take a penny of what you're offering her. I should think it wrong
and mean. It is about time--that's my way of thinking--that you looked
after your own interests. Emily has no claim to a share in this money,
and what's more, I don't wish her to take it."

"Very well," said Hilliard. "I tell you what we'll do. A couple of
hundred pounds shall be put aside for the little girl. You can't make
any objection to that."

The mother glanced doubtfully at her future husband, but Marr again
spoke with emphasis.

"Yes, I do object. If you don't mind me saying it, I'm quite able to
look after the little girl; and the fact is, I want her to grow up
looking to me as her father, and getting all she has from me only. Of
course, I mean nothing but what's friendly: but there it is; I'd rather
Winnie didn't have the money."

This man was in the habit of speaking his mind; Hilliard understood
that any insistence would only disturb the harmony of the occasion. He
waved a hand, smiled good-naturedly, and said no more.

About nine o'clock he left the house and walked to Aston Church. While
he stood there, waiting for the tram, a voice fell upon his ear that
caused him to look round. Crouched by the entrance to the churchyard
was a beggar in filthy rags, his face hideously bandaged, before him on
the pavement a little heap of matchboxes; this creature kept uttering a
meaningless sing-song, either idiot jabber, or calculated to excite
attention and pity; it sounded something like "A-pah-pahky; pah-pahky;
pah"; repeated a score of times, and resumed after a pause. Hilliard
gaz