r--she had so often been unwell,
and had done so little work when she came--that it was only as a favour
that her dismissal had hitherto been deferred.

Lily did not question the justice of the decision. She was conscious of
having been forgetful, awkward and slow to learn. It was bitter to
acknowledge her inferiority even to herself, but the fact had been
brought home to her that as a bread-winner she could never compete with
professional ability. Since she had been brought up to be ornamental,
she could hardly blame herself for failing to serve any practical
purpose; but the discovery put an end to her consoling sense of universal
efficiency.

As she turned homeward her thoughts shrank in anticipation from the fact
that there would be nothing to get up for the next morning. The luxury of
lying late in bed was a pleasure belonging to the life of ease; it had no
part in the utilitarian existence of the boarding-house. She liked to
leave her room early, and to return to it as late as possible; and she
was walking slowly now in order to postpone the detested approach to her
doorstep.

But the doorstep, as she drew near it, acquired a sudden interest from
the fact that it was occupied--and indeed filled--by the conspicuous
figure of Mr. Rosedale, whose presence seemed to take on an added
amplitude from the meanness of his surroundings.

The sight stirred Lily with an irresistible sense of triumph. Rosedale,
a day or two after their chance meeting, had called to enquire if she had
recovered from her indisposition; but since then she had not seen or
heard from him, and his absence seemed to betoken a struggle to keep
away, to let her pass once more out of his life. If this were the case,
his return showed that the struggle had been unsuccessful, for Lily knew
he was not the man to waste his time in an ineffectual sentimental
dalliance. He was too busy, too practical, and above all too much
preoccupied with his own advancement, to indulge in such unprofitable
asides.

In the peacock-blue parlour, with its bunches of dried pampas grass, and
discoloured steel engravings of sentimental episodes, he looked about him
with unconcealed disgust, laying his hat distrustfully on the dusty
console adorned with a Rogers statuette.

Lily sat down on one of the plush and rosewood sofas, and he deposited
himself in a rocking-chair draped with a starched antimacassar which
scraped unpleasantly against the pink fold of skin above his