aments.

"You ain't eatin' anything, dearie," she says one morning at breakfast.
"Try a tumbler of new milk to put some strength into you. It's them
towns as makes you pale and spiritless. I knows 'em. We was that done
up after our visit to you and cousin Harriett it was quite surprisin'.
But law, how Pa did make me walk in London. Up them Monument steps, and
down again before I'd got my breath, with poor Rover in charge of a
policeman below, and everyone a laughing 'cause I was puffing so."

Eleanor forces a smile. She was watching for the post.

The moment the man's tread is heard on the gravel she starts up and runs
to the door, dreading every day that Giddy may divulge her address.

She longs to write to Carol Quinton, but dare not. She knows she is too
weak to run the risk.

There are two letters for her, one from Philip, the other from Mrs.
Mounteagle.

She reads Giddy's first.

It is amusing and frivolous as usual. The last half, however, amazes
Eleanor.

"I am going to be married," it says in the middle of a description of a
new bonnet. "My future husband is a wealthy man and a general.
Congratulate me! It will not be a long engagement, as he is seventy-five
to-morrow, but loves with the ardour of a seventeen year old! Talking of
boys, I am asking Bertie to be best man. By this you will see all
arrangements for the ceremony are being left entirely to my management.
It will be costly and elaborate. My gown alone would have swallowed up
dear Bertie's income. I have given him a splendid new watch to console
him, as his was snatched last year at Epsom. I met my General at Lady
MacDonald's. He moves in a very good set--gout permitting. Excuse my
humour.--Your elated and strong-minded GIDDY.

"P.S.--Don't you think I am a noble woman? He is one eye short, which is
rather a recommendation, but _has_ been one of the handsomest men about
town."

"How strange," thinks Eleanor. Then she throws the letter aside in
disgust. "And very loathsome!" she adds, tearing open Philip's envelope.

She reads it slowly at the breakfast table.

"Philip is coming this evening," she says.

Mr. and Mrs. Grebby clap their hands.

"Well, now, I'm right glad," they exclaim together. "We could see 'ow
you missed 'im, dearie."

Eleanor feels uncomfortably guilty. What _if_ they knew that her every
thought was wandering to another!

Already she has begun to try and piece the photograph together again,
reg