m afraid," he said, "that I am the person who is being
exposed--isn't that the word? I warn you, Lady Sybil, that I am a
questionable character."

"I will take the risk," she answered, gaily.

"I think you may safely do so," Lord Bertram answered, raising his hat.
"Good-morning, Lady Sybil--morning, Mr. Brooks!"

She led him towards the chairs.

"I am going to take the risk of your being in an extravagant frame of
mind," she said, "and make you pay for two chains--up here, on the back
now. Now, first of all, do you know that you look shockingly ill?"

"I have just come from-n my doctor," Brooks answered. "He agrees with
you."

"I am glad that you have had the sense to go to him," she said. "Tell
me, are you just run down, on is there anything more serious the matter?

"Nothing serious at all," he answered. "I have had a great deal to do,
and no holiday during the past year, so I suppose I am a little tired."

"You look like a ghost," she said. "You have been overworking yourself
ridiculously. Now, will you be so good as to tell me why you have
never been to see us?"

"I have been nowhere," he answered. "My work has claimed my
undivided attention."

"Nonsense," she answered. "You have been living for a year within a
shilling cab ride of us, and you have not once even called. I really
wonder that I am sitting here with you, as though prepared to forgive
you. Do you know that I have written you three times asking you to come
to tea?"

He turned a very white face upon her.

"Won't you understand," he said, "that I have been engrossed in a work
which would admit of no distractions?

"You could find time to go down to Medchester, and make speeches for
your friend Mr. Bullsom," she answered.

"That was different. I was deeply indebted to Mr. Bullsom, and anxious
to see him returned. That, too, was work. It is only pleasures which I
have denied myself."

"That," she remarked, "is the nicest--in fact, the only nice thing you
have said. You have changed since Enton."

"I have been through a good deal," he said, wearily.

She shuddered a little.

"Don't look like that," she exclaimed. "Forgive me, but you made me
think--do you remember that night at Enton, when Lord Arranmore spoke
of his work amongst the poor, how the hopelessness of it began to haunt
him and weigh upon him till he reached the verge of madness. You had
something of that look just now."

He smiled faintly.

"Believe me, it was fancy," he