should so like just to see you, if ever you do. It isn't
like it was at the old shop. There's a great deal of business done
here, and very little time to talk to anyone in the shop. But many
girls have worse things to put up with than I have, and I won't make
you think I'm a grumbler."

The whole of January went by before Hilliard and Eve again saw each
other. The lover wrote at length that he could bear it no longer, that
he was coming to Dudley, if only for the mere sight of Eve's face; she
must meet him in the waiting-room at the railway station. She answered
by return of post, "I will come over next Sunday, and be with you at
twelve o'clock, but I must leave very early, as I am afraid to be out
after nightfall." And this engagement was kept.

The dress of mourning became her well; it heightened her always
noticeable air of refinement, and would have constrained to a
reverential tenderness even had not Hilliard naturally checked himself
from any bolder demonstration of joy. She spoke in a low, soft voice,
seldom raised her eyes, and manifested a new gentleness very touching
to Hilliard, though at the same time, and he knew not how or why, it
did not answer to his desire. A midday meal was in readiness for her;
she pretended to eat, but in reality scarce touched the food.

"You must taste old Narramore's port wine," said her entertainer. "The
fellow actually sent a couple of dozen."

She was not to be persuaded; her refusal puzzled and annoyed Hilliard,
and there followed a long silence. Indeed, it surprised him to find how
little they could say to each other to-day. An unknown restraint had
come between them.

"Well," he exclaimed at length, "I wrote to Patty, and she answered."

"May I see the letter?"

"Of course. Here it is."

Eve read it, and smiled with pleasure.

"Doesn't she write nicely! Poor girl!"

"Why have you taken so to commiserating her all at once?" Hilliard
asked. "She's no worse off than she ever was. Rather better, I think."

"Life isn't the same for her since she was in Paris," said Eve, with
peculiar softness.

"Well, perhaps it improved her."

"Oh, it certainly did! But it gave her a feeling of discontent for the
old life and the people about her."

"A good many of us have to suffer that. She's nothing like as badly off
as you are, my dear girl."

Eve coloured, and kept silence.

"We shall hear of her getting married before long," resumed the other.
"She told me herself that