run to
knee. Necktie he had none, and his linen made distinct appeal to the
laundress.

Marian shook hands with him.

'He went away at half-past two,' was her reply to his question.

'How annoying! I wanted particularly to see him. I have been running
about all day, and couldn't get here before. Something important--most
important. At all events, I can tell you. But I entreat that you won't
breathe a word save to your father.'

Mr Quarmby--that was his name--had taken a vacant chair and drawn it
close to Marian's. He was in a state of joyous excitement, and talked
in thick, rather pompous tones, with a pant at the end of a sentence. To
emphasise the extremely confidential nature of his remarks, he brought
his head almost in contact with the girl's, and one of her thin,
delicate hands was covered with his red, podgy fingers.

'I've had a talk with Nathaniel Walker,' he continued; 'a long talk--a
talk of vast importance. You know Walker? No, no; how should you? He's a
man of business; close friend of Rackett's--Rackett, you know, the owner
of The Study.'

Upon this he made a grave pause, and glared more excitedly than ever.

'I have heard of Mr Rackett,' said Marian.

'Of course, of course. And you must also have heard that Fadge leaves
The Study at the end of this year, eh?'

'Father told me it was probable.'

'Rackett and he have done nothing but quarrel for months; the paper is
falling off seriously. Well, now, when I came across Nat Walker this
afternoon, the first thing he said to me was, "You know Alfred Yule
pretty well, I think?" "Pretty well," I answered; "why?" "I'll tell
you," he said, "but it's between you and me, you understand. Rackett is
thinking about him in connection with The Study." "I'm delighted to hear
it." "To tell you the truth," went on Nat, "I shouldn't wonder if Yule
gets the editorship; but you understand that it would be altogether
premature to talk about it." Now what do you think of this, eh?'

'It's very good news,' answered Marian.

'I should think so! Ho, ho!'

Mr Quarmby laughed in a peculiar way, which was the result of long years
of mirth-subdual in the Reading-room.

'But not a breath to anyone but your father. He'll be here to-morrow?
Break it gently to him, you know; he's an excitable man; can't take
things quietly, like I do. Ho, ho!'

His suppressed laugh ended in a fit of coughing--the Reading-room cough.
When he had recovered from it, he pressed Marian's hand