ll me plain and straight that you hadn't
done anything wrong--nothing to be ashamed of."

"Well, then, I do tell you that. I never gave her the least cause to
speak of me in that way. It's all lies."

"I more than half thought it was."

Mrs. Clover heaved a sigh and looked more cheerful.

"And what," she added, "does she mean about marrying a gentleman?"

"That's more than I can tell you."

Again he laughed, laughed like a man enjoying sudden relief of mind.

"More than I can tell you, Mrs. Clover. But I'll see if I can't find
out; indeed I will. Her friends, the Nibby's, may be able to tell me
something. Have you asked her to come and see you?"

"No. For one thing I don't know the address, and after a letter like
this--"

"Quite right. Leave it to me." He bent his head, hesitated, and added
quietly, "I may have something to tell you."

Thereupon they parted, and Mrs. Clover felt her head so much better
that she was able to attend to business.

CHAPTER XXVI

A DOUBLE EVENT

With clang and twang the orchestra (a music-hall orchestra) summoned to
hilarity an audience of the first half-hour; stragglers at various
prices, but all alike in their manifest subdual by a cold atmosphere, a
dull illumination, empty seats, and inferior singers put on for the
early "turns." A striking of matches to kindle pipe or cigar, a
thudding of heavy boots, clink of glass or pewter, and a waiter's
spiritless refrain--"Any orders, gents?" Things would be better
presently. In the meantime Mr. Gammon was content to have found a place
where he could talk with Polly, sheltered from the January night, at
small expense. He sipped thoughtfully from a tumbler of rich Scotch; he
glanced cautiously at his companion, who seemed very much under the
influence of the hour. Polly, in fact, had hardly spoken. Her winter
costume could not compare in freshness and splendour with that which
had soothed her soul through the bygone sunny season; to tell the
truth, she was all but shabby. But Gammon had no eye for this. He was
trying to read Polly's thoughts, and wondering how she could take what
he had made up his mind to tell her.

"I saw your aunt yesterday."

"You did?"

"Yes, I did. She was telling me about a letter she had from you some
time ago--the last letter you wrote her."

Their eyes met. Miss Sparkes was defiant--on her guard, but not wholly
courageous; Gammon twinkled a mocking smile, and held himself ready for
whatever