ver done for himself. That was the irony of it; when, if she could, she
would have taken her luck and shared it with him.

Anyhow, business without George had been very uninteresting; and
therefore she had not attended to it. There had been opportunities as
golden as you please, but she had not seized them. There had been
glorious openings for Hambleby, far-reaching prospects, noble vistas, if
only he had been born six months sooner. And when George said that
Hambleby would be popular, he was, of course, only tormenting her. He
never meant half of the unpleasant things he said.

It was now April. Hambleby waited only for the crowning chapter. The
arrangements for his publication had been made, all but the date, which
was left unsettled, in case at the last moment a new opening should be
found.

At four o'clock on an April afternoon Jane was meditating on her affairs
when the staircase bell rang somewhat imperiously. It sounded like
somebody determined to get in. A month ago she would have taken no
notice of it. Now she was afraid not to open her door lest Tanqueray
should be there.

It was not Tanqueray. It was Hugh Brodrick.

For a second she wondered at him, not taking him in. She had forgotten
that Brodrick existed. It was his eyes she recognized him by. They were
fixed on her, smiling at her wonder. He stood on the little square of
landing between the door and the foot of the staircase.

"Of course," he said. "You're just going out?"

"No, do come in."

"May I? I don't believe you know in the least who I am."

"I do, really. I'm very glad to see you."

He followed her up the stairs and into her sitting-room, the small
white-painted sitting-room, with its three straight windows looking on
the Square. He went to one of the windows and looked out.

"Yes," he said, "there is a charm about it."

He spoke as if his mind had been long occupied with this place she lived
in; as if they had disputed together many times as to the attraction of
Kensington Square, and he had been won over, at last, reluctantly, to
her view. It all strengthened the impression he gave of being absorbed
in her.

He turned to her.

"You like living here? All alone? Cut off from everybody?"

She remembered then how they had really discussed this question.

"I like it very much indeed."

"Well----" (He said it sadly.) "Do you write in this room? At that
table?"

"Yes."

He looked at the table as if he thought it all very inter