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BUT the party comes far on in the story.

When George Wendern had realised that the details of the house in Princes Gate bothered him, he engaged Mrs Berwick to look after them. This was how she came to be seated at a writing-table in the morningroom going through a pile of tradesmen's books. Beside her was a bowl of roses with the breath of summer in them, though as yet it was only spring; she stooped over them, delighting in the luxury of their being there more than in their beauty. The French window stood wide open, letting in the sunshine and the sweet still air. Two steps led down to a small flower-garden, with a light iron fence and a

little gate marking out its boundary; beyond the gate was the well-mown lawn, common to the tenants of all the houses. The room itself was furnished in a manner that suggested wealth and a certain amount of refinement. Mrs Berwick looked almost, not quite, like the right person to be in it.

She was fairly young; there were days when she might have been thirty, others when the lines about her mouth suggested the nearness of forty; pleasantlooking without being exactly pretty, a pile of light-brown hair on the top of her head, and eyes that were blue or green or grey, it depended on the shadows; occasionally, but only for a moment, there was an

Copyright in the United States of America. All rights reserved.

VOL. CXCL-NO. MCLV.

A

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them a good asset.

Mrs

"What does he do?" Rigg's voice was a pleasantly inquiring one.

expression in them that was and shapely; she considered shifty and adventurous, anxious and questioning, the outcome probably of remembered struggles and worries. Her figure was good, her waist small, her dress wellmade; on her wrist she wore a blue enamel watch bracelet fastened with a leather strap, on her fingers a few rings of no particular value; altogether she made an agreeable addition to the room.

But she appeared to be uneasy. She opened a book and looked at it, evidently to gain time, put down some makebelieve notes on the blottingpaper in front of her, and then suddenly, with an air of bewilderment and boredom, glanced at her sister, Mrs Rigg, who sat on a sofa patiently waiting. It was only half-past ten. Relations had no business to come so early, she thought, or

to

come at all, unless they knew how to dress and look prosperous.

Mrs Rigg looked dowdy, she obviously belonged to the middle class, she was forty-five, her manner was conciliatory, nimble, and a little nervous.

"I'm always so busy in the morning," Mrs Berwick explained. "I wish you had come at some other time-and written first."

"I thought I should be sure to catch you, that he would have gone to his office."

"Sometimes he doesn't go to the office at all," Mrs Berwick answered, and looked at her sister's hands, they were thickfingered and ugly, then down at her own which were white

"I

"I don't know, and I don't care," Mrs Berwick was almost snappy; as if ashamed of it, she went over to the couch and sat down by her visitor. can give you five minutes more,' ," she said in a kinder tone, "then you must go; you do understand, don't you, dear?" She put out her hand and felt the texture of Mrs. Rigg's brown skirt. "You mustn't mind my saying it."

"Of course not. Is he at home then?"

"I don't know. He came down to breakfast quite early, I think he went for an hour's ride-but he generally comes in

at this time to arrange things for the day."

"Do you see much of him?”

"No. But I always use that writing-table, he calls it mine, and I'm always here in the morning ready for him. He likes this room, you see it leads out to the garden," Mrs Berwick gave a significant smile, which conveyed nothing to Mrs Rigg; "do put on your gloves, your hands look so bad."

Mrs Rigg was rather offended, "I have had to work, and my hands show it."

"I know, dear, you've been splendid."

"And I'm going directly." "Perhaps you had better," Mrs Berwick said reluctantly. "If he comes in he doesn't expect to find any of my friends here."

"Of course not," Mrs Rigg meekly agreed.

"I've been trying to come and see you; but it's such a long way and I've had so much worry with my clothes.'

"You always look nice, somehow."

"I wish I did. Mercifully Princes Gate is a good address, and if one walks into a big shop with an air, gives enough trouble and is sufficiently insolent, it's possible to get credit for a few things; but of course my name isn't in the directory as living here, and bills do come in- it's dreadful."

"I'm so sick of bills."

"We all are. I hope Fred's going on all right?" Fred was Mr Rigg. "He must have missed you all that time you were at Herne Bay."

"He did, and he was out such a long time—and we had so many expenses."

Mrs Berwick felt that the tone had meaning in it, and said quickly, "I know, I'd help you if I could, but everything's so difficult." Her voice was a fighting one, though it was soft and human.

The battle of life had told on both sisters. On Mrs Rigg outwardly it accounted for her makeshift clothes, her scanty, badly done hair, the lines on her face, her thin throat and nervous hands; obviously she was poor, and tried hard not to be envious of her more presentable sister.

On Mrs Berwick it had told inwardly; for she looked fairly prosperous and she had kept some sort of pace with the

world.

She had always been to theatres, or at anyrate could talk about them, about people, fashion, politics, music, in fact anything; but she had grown self-regarding, and determined to do the best she could for herself. Yet there were charming things latent in her nature. And she had sentiment. Long ago it had caused her to marry a drunken lout, a man whose family had discarded him to live on such borrowings as he could get. She had loved him, tried to reform him, been beaten, sworn at, disgusted, but all the time she was faithful to him. She grieved for him when he died, hating herself for the underlying relief it was; she had worn deep and extremely becoming mourning for him, feeling it to be his due; and that it was not paid for made it seem curiously appropriate. interval which she considered decent (she had a sincere respect for the amenities), she set out with undaunted determination to get her own living. There had been many phases, but they were of no importance now that she had arrived at Princes Gate. "I live here in every luxury," she added after a pause, "but I haven't a shilling in my pocket."

After an

"You look as if you had pounds."

"I know. One must do that."

"Don't Cyril's relations do anything for you?"

"Nothing Lady Berwick gave me to understand they never would. They sent me some cast-off clothes at first

and invited me to luncheon "Nothing. I am one of those women, my dear, who never talk about themselves : they are few and wise.'

now and then, and generally offered to drive me afterwards so that they might drop me and get rid of me, which they did with great readiness. The only money they gave me was to advertise for a post, and then they insisted on my cutting out the advertisement and sending it to them. It's horrible-and I'm broke, my dear, stony-broke."

"But surely you get money from Mr Wendern? He must be rich? "

"I don't know." Mrs Rigg looked round. "The things in this room are very handsome."

"I wonder sometimes what they'll fetch when they're second-hand."

Mrs Rigg turned upon her sister quickly, here was a clue to a situation from which she felt herself excluded, "Are you anxious about him?"

"Not precisely anxious; but I wish I knew more about him. You see he comes from Australia

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"I don't like Colonials, you can't measure them in any way."

"He's not a bit like one. I believe his father rolled in money, and I'm sure I hope he does." Mrs Berwick was silent for a moment before she added with a sigh, "But he's so absent and dreamy and inconsequent, you can't tell. He's mixed up with a syndicate, that's why he goes to an office, but he never says anything about it."

"Does he know much about you?"

"You never told me how you got here. You see, it was while I was away."

"Through an advertisement."

"But didn't you make any inquiries about him?"

"None. I was so sick of putting it in: -'A young widow, thirty-two—

999

"And a little more," Mrs Rigg gave a quick laugh.

a

Mrs Berwick's tone showed that it annoyed her. She went on severely, "highly accomplished, accustomed to the best society, wishes to find a post as lady housekeeper to gentleman of position. Is accustomed to manage servants, has travelled, can ride and drive. Highest references, salary no object.' I spent four pounds on that advertisement and only had three answers."

Mrs Rigg was much interested, she was so seldom given particulars of her sister's doings. "What were the other two?"

"One was from a clergyman in Lincolnshire: sixty-five if he was a day and a water-drinker. Temperance people ought to be taxed, then if they didn't help the revenue in one way they would in another. I came away and nearly took to my bed." She stopped for a moment.

"The other was from a young idiot in Piccadilly who had a large fortune on coming of age; but he had spent it before he answered my advertisement. He had a bad

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