did not interfere, Jack Portland felt that the condition Nell had made regarding the packet of letters would prove the quietus to his friendship with Ilfracombe. If the countess told her husband the whole truth, he would never receive him again. Of that he was certain. But there was the chance that, for her own sake, Nora would _not_ tell him the truth, and in that case, if he heard of the marriage first, he might never be told of the other little affair at all, and the countess secure of herself, might join her husband in extending her hospitality to him. This was what Mr Portland was dreaming of as he sat in the parlour of ‘The Three Pilchards’ smoking, and waiting for Nell’s arrival. As the time went on, and she did not appear, he grew rather fidgety. He had had his dinner at his usual hour of seven, but, as nine o’clock sounded, it struck him that Nell might expect to see supper waiting for her, so rang the bell to order it. ‘What have you in the house? What can I have for supper?’ ‘Supper, sir?’ echoed the country waiter, who though he could play a very pretty tune with a knife and fork himself, was rather taken aback at the gentleman requiring supper at nine, after a hearty dinner at seven. ‘Yes. Are you deaf? I expect my wife here soon, and she may require something to eat. What can we have?’ ‘We have a joint of cold beef in the house, sir, and a veal and ham pie, and--’ ‘None of those will do. I want something hot.’ ‘A chicken, sir, with a cauliflower and potatoes?’ suggested the waiter.