re the empty fireplace.

"There is one thing, sir," he said, "on my conscience to say before I
go, and I must leave it to you to decide. The little girl who comes to
you no longer lives where she used to live."

"In that street...." said Mr. Stone.

Hilary went on quickly. "She was obliged to leave because the husband of
the woman with whom she used to lodge became infatuated with her. He has
been in prison, and comes out tomorrow. If she continues to come here
he will, of course, be able to find her. I'm afraid he will pursue her
again. Have I made it clear to you?"

"No," said Mr. Stone.

"The man," resumed Hilary patiently, "is a poor, violent creature, who
has been wounded in the head; he is not quite responsible. He may do the
girl an injury."

"What injury?"

"He has stabbed his wife already."

"I will speak to him," said Mr. Stone.

Hilary smiled. "I am afraid that words will hardly meet the case. She
ought to disappear."

There was silence.

"My book!" said Mr. Stone.

It smote Hilary to see how white his face had become. 'It's better,' he
thought, 'to bring his will-power into play; she will never come here,
anyway, after I'm gone.'

But, unable to bear the tragedy in the old man's eyes, he touched him on
the arm.

"Perhaps she will take the risk, sir, if you ask her."

Mr. Stone did not answer, and, not knowing what more to say, Hilary
went back to the window. Miranda was slumbering lightly out there in the
speckled shade, where it was not too warm and not too cold, her cheek
resting on her paw and white teeth showing.

Mr. Stone's voice rose again. "You are right; I cannot ask her to run a
risk like that!"

"She is just coming up the garden," Hilary said huskily. "Shall I tell
her to come in?"

"Yes," said Mr. Stone.

Hilary beckoned.

The girl came in, carrying a tiny bunch of lilies of the valley; her
face fell at sight of Mr. Stone; she stood still, raising the lilies to
her breast. Nothing could have been more striking than the change from
her look of guttered expectancy to a sort of hard dismay. A spot of red
came into both her cheeks. She gazed from Mr. Stone to Hilary and back
again. Both were staring at her. No one spoke. The little model's bosom
began heaving as though she had been running; she said faintly: "Look;
I brought you this, Mr. Stone!" and held out to him the bunch of lilies.
But Mr. Stone made no sign. "Don't you like them?"

Mr. Stone's eyes remained fastene