Saying which, Gerald snatched up his bag of books and left the room, slamming the door after him. His sister listened to his footsteps descending the stairs, her heart full of indignation. Fond as she was of her brother, she could not blind herself to the injustice of his remarks; she had hoped he would have overcome his resentment against her by the morning, and her grief at the unkind spirit he was evincing towards her was eclipsed by her anger at his jealousy. Mr. Bailey and his nephew spent the morning together in the latter's studio, whilst Angel remained disconsolately in the sitting-room. It was miserable, depressing weather, and as the little girl gazed out into the thick fog she sighed regretfully, thinking of the sunny days she had spent at Wreyford, and wishing it was her lot in life to dwell in the country. Towards noon the fog lifted somewhat, so that after the midday meal Mr. Bailey was tempted by the clearing atmosphere to go out. Angel was prepared to spend the afternoon alone, for she thought her father would desire to make the most of the short spell of daylight they were likely to have; but, much to her surprise and pleasure, he remained in the sitting-room, and, seating himself in the easy chair by the fireplace, called her to his side. "I want to have a confidential talk with you, little daughter," he said affectionately, as she took her favourite place on a stool at his feet, and rested her head against his knee; "tell me some more about your doings this past week." She obeyed willingly, delighted to find with what close attention he listened to her. She told him everything she could think of, and entered into all the trifling details of her visit, to all of which he lent an attentive ear, occasionally asking a question, but for the most part allowing her to talk undisturbed. "Would you like to live at Wreyford?" he inquired presently. "Oh, indeed I should!" she replied readily. "At Haresdown House, for instance?" "Yes," she nodded; "I think it will be a lovely place when Uncle Edward has had the house done up, and the shrubs in the front garden cut down a bit. Mrs. Mickle said she thought it was rather lonely because it stands by itself, you know, with no other house in sight, but I am sure I should not be half so lonely there as here in London." Mr. Willis gave an involuntary sigh, which caused Angel to glance up at him quickly. To her surprise he was looking unusually grave and thoughtful. "Poor people are generally lonely in London," he remarked a little sadly. "You are right, Angel. I wish I could afford to make a home for you in the country, but, you see, it is necessary I should be in town at present, whilst I have so much illustrating work and sketches for papers to do." "Oh, I know, father. I dare say some day, when you are rich and famous, it will not matter where you live, and then we will have a beautiful home in the country too."