fusiveness very distasteful to Earwaker.

'Now you shouldn't!' was her first exclamation to Malkin. 'Indeed you
shouldn't! It's really very naughty of you. O Mr. Earwaker! Who ever
took so much pleasure in doing kindnesses? Do look at this _beautiful_
book that Mr. Malkin has sent as a present to my little Bella. O Mr.
Earwaker!'

The journalist was at once struck with her tone and manner as she
addressed Malkin. He remarked that phrase, 'my little Bella', and it
occurred to him that Mrs. Jacox had been growing younger since he made
her acquaintance on the towers of Notre Dame. When the girls presented
themselves, they also appeared to him more juvenile; Bella, in
particular, was dressed with an exaggeration of childishness decidedly
not becoming. One had but to look into her face to see that she
answered perfectly to Malkin's description; she was a young lady, and
no child. A very pretty young lady, moreover; given to colouring, but
with no silly simper; intelligent about the eyes and lips; modest, in a
natural and sweet way. He conversed with her, and in doing so was
disagreeably affected by certain glances she occasionally cast towards
her mother. One would have said that she feared censure, though it was
hard to see why.

On the return journey Earwaker made known some of his impressions,
though not all.

'I like the girls,' he said, 'Bella especially. But I can't say much
good of their mother.'

They were opposite each other in the railway carriage. Malkin leaned
forward with earnest, anxious face.

'That's my own trouble,' he whispered. 'I'm confoundedly uneasy about
it. I don't think she's bringing them up at all in a proper way.
Earwaker, I would pay down five thousand pounds for the possibility of
taking Bella away altogether.'

The other mused.

'But, mind you,' pursued Malkin, 'she's not a _bad_ woman. By no means!
Thoroughly good-hearted I'm convinced; only a little weak here.' He
tapped his forehead. 'I respect her, for all she has suffered, and her
way of going through it. But she isn't the ideal mother, you know.'

On his way home, Malkin turned into his friend's chambers 'for five
minutes'. At two in the morning he was still there, and his talk in the
meanwhile had been of nothing but schemes for protecting Bella against
her mother's more objectionable influences. On taking leave, he asked:

'Any news of Peak yet?'

'None. I haven't seen Moxey for a long time.'

'Do you think Peak will loo