His reflections were interrupted by the entrance of two customers, evidently a very recently married couple, who had come to choose a piano. Once again he had to summon Roy, who stood patiently discoursing on the various merits of different makers until at last the purchase had been made. Then, unable any longer to resist the feverish impatience which had been consuming him for so long, he snatched up his hat, left word with Frithiof that he should be absent for an hour, and getting into a hansom drove straight to the model lodgings. He felt a curious sense of incongruity as he walked across the court-yard; this great business-like place was, as Sigrid had once said, very much like a hive. An air of industry and orderliness pervaded it, and Roy, in his eager impatience, felt as if he had no right there at all. This feeling cast a sort of chill over his happiness as he knocked at the familiar door. A voice within bade him enter, and, emerging from behind the Japanese screen, he found Sigrid hard at work ironing. She wore a large brown holland apron and bib over her black dress, her sleeves were turned back, revealing her round, white arms up to the elbow, and the table was strewn with collars and cuffs. “I thought it was Mrs. Hallifield come to scrub the kitchen,” she exclaimed, “or I should not have cried ‘Come in!’ so unceremoniously. Cecil told us you were expected last night.” “Will you forgive me for coming at this hour?” he began eagerly. “I knew it was the only time I was sure to find you at home, and I couldn’t rest till I had seen you.” “It was very good of you to come,” she said, coloring a little; “you wont mind if I just finish my work while we talk?” The ironing might, in truth, have waited very well; but somehow it relieved her embarrassment to sprinkle and arrange and iron the “fine things” which, from motives of economy, she washed herself. “I have seen Frithiof,” he said, rather nervously. “He is looking better than I had expected after such an annoyance.” “You have spoken to him about it?” “Only for a minute or two. After all, what is there to say but that the whole affair must be forgotten, and never again mentioned by a soul. I want so to make you understand that it is to us nothing at all, that it is ridiculous to suppose that it can affect our thoughts of him. It was the sort of thing that might happen to any one after such an illness.” Sigrid looked up at him. There was the same depth of disappointment in her expression as there had been in Cecil’s. “You take that view of it,” she said slowly. “Somehow I had hoped you would have been able to find the true explanation.” “If there were any other you surely know that I would seek for it with all my might,” said Roy. “But I do not see how any other explanation can possibly exist.” She sighed.