silence, "and
Ben's sight ain't wot it used to be. He strained it looking out for a
sail when we was on that desert----"

"When--when'll she be back?" inquired Mr. Davis, finding his voice at
last.

The old lady affected to look puzzled. "But I thought you were certain
that I was your wife?" she said, smoothly.

"My mistake," said Mr. Davis, ruefully. "Thirty-five years is a long
time and people change a bit; I have myself. For one thing, I must say
I didn't expect to find 'er so stout."

"Stout!" repeated the other, quickly.

"Not that I mean you're too stout," said Mr. Davis, hurriedly--"for
people that like stoutness, that is. My wife used to 'ave a very good
figger."

Mr. Wotton nodded. "He used to rave about it on that des----"

"When will she be back?" inquired Mr. Davis, interrupting him.

Mrs. Smith shook her head. "I can't say," she replied, moving towards
the door. "When she's off holidaying, I never know when she'll return.
Shall I tell her you called?"

"Tell her I----certainly," said Mr. Davis, with great vehemence. "I'll
come in a week's time and see if she's back."

"She might be away for months," said the old lady, moving slowly to the
passage and opening the street door. "Good-afternoon."

She closed the door behind them and stood watching them through the glass
as they passed disconsolately into the street. Then she went back into
the parlour, and standing before the mantelpiece, looked long and
earnestly into the mirror.

Mr. Davis returned a week later--alone, and, pausing at the gate, glanced
in dismay at a bill in the window announcing that the house was to be
sold. He walked up the path still looking at it, and being admitted by
the trim servant was shown into the parlour, and stood in a dispirited
fashion before Mrs. Smith.

"Not back yet?" he inquired, gruffly.

The old lady shook her head.

"What--what--is that bill for?" demanded Mr. Davis, jerking his thumb
towards it.

"She is thinking of selling the house," said Mrs. Smith. "I let her know
you had been, and that is, the result. She won't comeback. You won't
see her again."

"Where is she?" inquired Mr. Davis, frowning.

Mrs. Smith shook her head again. "And it would be no use my telling
you," she said. "What she has got is her own, and the law won't let you
touch a penny of it without her consent. You must have treated her
badly; why did you leave her?"

"Why?" repeated Mr. Davis. "Why?