annoyance as the servant came
forward to announce a visitor, and the frown did not diminish when she
heard the name.

"Oh, ask Mr Newcome to come up, Baker! I will see him here." The man
disappeared, and she threw down the magazine with an exclamation of
disgust. "That stolid young man! Now I shall have to listen to
improving anecdotes for the next half-hour. Why in the world need he
inflict himself upon me?"

The next moment the door opened and the "`stolid' young man" stood
before her. So far as appearance went, however, the description was
misleading, for Arthur Newcome was tall and handsome, with yellow hair,
a good moustache, and strong, well set up figure. He came forward and
shook hands with Miss Carr in a quick, nervous fashion, which was so
unlike his usual stolid demeanour, that the good lady stared at him in
amazement.

"He is actually animated! I always said that it would take a convulsion
of nature to rouse him from his deadly propriety, but upon my word he
looks excited. What can have happened?"

The laws of propriety do not always permit us to ask the questions
nearest our hearts, however, and Miss Carr was obliged to content
herself with commonplaces.

"It is a beautiful day. I suppose Madge got home safely last night?
She isn't too tired after the picnic, I hope!"

"A little fatigued, I believe, but no doubt she will have recovered
before evening. She is apt to get excited on these occasions and to
exert herself unduly."

"Nobody can say the same of you, more's the pity," was Miss Carr's
mental comment. "Madge rows very well, and the exercise will do her no
harm," she said shortly, and relapsed into determined silence. "I
suppose he has something to say, some message for Lettice most likely;
better let him say it and take himself off as soon as possible," was her
hospitable reflection; but Mr Newcome sat twirling his hat and studying
the pattern of the carpet in embarrassed silence.

Three times over did he clear his throat and open his lips to speak,
before he got the length of words.

"Miss Carr, I--er, I feel that I am--er--I am deeply sensible of my own
unworthiness, and can only rely on your generosity, and assure you of my
deep and sincere--"

"What in the name of all that is mysterious is the man driving at?"
asked Miss Carr of herself; but she sat bolt upright in her seat, with a
flush on her cheeks and a pang of vague, indefinite fear at her heart.

"My dear Mr Newco