much as it disturbed.
It could not be that she herself coveted Mr Gerard's attention!
Cynthia, Nan Vanburgh, all her friends had remarked times and again upon
her indifference to masculine admiration, for, strange as it might seem,
that romantic interview in the fog six years before had linked her
sympathies so strangely with one man's lot that she had had none to
spare for later comers. Under God's providence she had saved a life,
and while those voiceless messengers told of its preservation, it must
remain the one supreme interest of life. Some day "Ralph" would come
home. Some day he would appear before her to announce his task
completed, and to claim her friendship as his reward. Her mother
pleaded with her not to allow a romantic fancy to ruin her life, pointed
out that "Ralph" might have married long before now, that even if he
returned she might be bitterly disappointed in his identity. In vain!
Betty could not argue. She _felt_--and that was the end of the matter.
The sympathetic attraction was too strong to be one-sided. At the other
side of the ocean "Ralph" was waiting for her, even as she for him, and
the meeting would surely come. It might be years hence, but--marvellous
thought!--it might be to-day. Each fresh awakening brought with it a
thrill and a hope.

All these long years had this fantasy lasted; it was not possible that
it was beginning to fade at the sight of a pair of grave grey eyes, at
the sound of a man's deep-toned voice!

Betty sat and thought. Ten minutes passed, twenty minutes, half an
hour.

Jill thrust her head round the corner of the door to give a careless
invitation.

"I'm going for a trot before dinner. Come along too. It will do you
good."

"No, thank you. I'd rather not."

"Sulking still? Goodness, I thought you'd have recovered by this time!
Bye-bye, my dear. Hope you'll get it over before dinner."

She was humming again as she made her way to the door, where, no doubt,
Mr Gerard waited to accompany her. The invitation had been a polite
matter of form to which an acceptance was not desired. Betty leant her
head on the table and lived through a moment of bitterness before the
door opened once more, and a voice said--

"If you are not going out, may I come in for a few minutes? Miles has
not yet--" Then, in a tone of startled concern, "I beg your pardon! I
am interrupting you. You are in trouble?"

Betty straightened herself with a nervous laugh.

"O