was for more than a twelvemonth.

Late in August, when Hilliard was thinking of a week's rest in the
country, after a spell of harder and more successful work than he had
ever previously known, he received a letter from Patty Ringrose.

"Dear Mr. Hilliard," wrote the girl, "I have just heard from Eve that
she is to be married to Mr. Narramore in a week's time. She says you
don't know about it; but I think you _ought_ to know. I haven't been
able to make anything of her two last letters, but she has written
plainly at last. Perhaps she means me to tell you. Will you let me have
a line? I should like to know whether you care much, and I do so hope
you don't! I felt sure it would come to this, and if you'll believe me,
it's just as well. I haven't answered her letter, and I don't know
whether I shall. I might say disagreeable things. Everything is the
same with me and always will be, I suppose." In conclusion, she was his
sincerely. A postscript remarked: "They tell me I play better. I've
been practising a great deal, just to kill the time."

"Dear Miss Ringrose," he responded, "I am very glad to know that Eve is
to be comfortably settled for life. By all means answer her letter, and
by all means keep from saying disagreeable things. It is never wise to
quarrel with prosperous friends, and why should you? With every good
wish----" he remained sincerely hers.

CHAPTER XXVII

When Hilliard and his friend again shook hands it was the autumn of
another year. Not even by chance had they encountered in the interval
and no written message had passed between them. Their meeting was at a
house newly acquired by the younger of the Birching brothers, who,
being about to marry, summoned his bachelor familiars to smoke their
pipes in the suburban abode while yet his rule there was undisputed.
With Narramore he had of late resumed the friendship interrupted by
Miss Birching's displeasure, for that somewhat imperious young lady,
now the wife of an elderly ironmaster, moved in other circles; and
Hilliard's professional value, which was beginning to be recognised by
the Birchings otherwise than in the way of compliment, had overcome the
restraints at first imposed by his dubious social standing.

They met genially, without a hint of estrangement.

"Your wife well?" Hilliard took an opportunity of asking apart.

"Thanks, she's getting all right again. At Llandudno just now. Glad to
see that you're looking so uncommonly fit."