ling
suddenly round, stared full at it. Stared, and grew silent. And Miss
Beveridge stared back, and her eyes looked big, big, and oh! So dark
and deep. And her lips worked as if she were going to speak, and a red
spot came out on each cheek, and she was not Miss Beveridge any longer,
but someone whom the onlookers had never seen before.

The General's figure seemed to stiffen, his bent shoulders straightened
and broadened out. He stretched out his right hand.

"_Alice_!" he said, and his voice was soft and breathless. One could
hardly imagine it could be General Digby's voice. "Alice! Is that
you?"

She put her hand in his, and nodded dumbly. Mrs Trevor rattled her
teacups, questioned Jack volubly as to his walk--frowning at Betty to
second her efforts, and so leave the two old friends undisturbed; but it
was beyond girl nature to resist sly peeps, and if one's ears were made
sharp by nature, how could one help hearing odd scraps of conversation?

"And you have been living in London for years? You are not--" a glance
at the ringless hand--"not married then? I always thought you would
marry. ... You will give me your address. I must not lose sight of you
again.--A Governesses' Home. Oh, Alice!" ...

General Digby had no appetite for muffins and apricot jam that
afternoon. His fierce old face worked strangely as he sat with the
untasted tea in his hands, his glassy eyes were for once moist and
tender. As for Miss Beveridge, the flush died away from her cheeks,
leaving her looking even more worn and grey than before, and Betty,
looking at her, was conscious of a sudden tender outgoing of the heart,
a longing to help and comfort, such as had inspired Nan Vanburgh months
before, but after which she herself had striven in vain. This was
evidently a meeting of old lovers parted by some untoward fate. Ah,
poor soul, and it had come too late! Youth and health, and joy and
beauty, had all paid toll to the long years as they passed. How shocked
and pained the General must be, to meet his love in such a sadly
different guise! It was not possible he could care for her any more.
Better not to have met, and to have preserved the old illusion.

"I'll be nice to her! I thought she had been born old, but she has been
young after all. I will be nice to her. I'll try to make up!" said
Betty pitifully to herself.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

A TETE-A-TETE.

Half an hour later, when Betty escorted the General to