Miles sat silently staring at his stockinged feet. His eyes were hidden, the heavy moustache covered the lines of his mouth, yet as Betty looked at him she felt a stab of reproach, as if, while pitying herself, she had inadvertently probed a deeper wound. Had Miles also ached for Cynthia? Had the separation from her been the hardest part of his long exile? She longed to question him on the subject, but the stern, set face gave no encouragement to curiosity, however affectionate. "We are to go down to see her some day soon. She was almost as much excited about your coming home as we were ourselves, and we can run down to Franton and back quite easily in the day. You won't be occupied with business every day while you are at home, will you, Miles? You will be able to give up some of your time to us?" "Oh dear, yes. This is by way of being a holiday, and I mean to take you girls about, and the mater too, if she will come. We must see the mining business in train first, and then we'll go off somewhere and have a good time. I haven't worked for nothing all these years, and the best chance of enjoying myself is to see your enjoyment. Things don't always work out as we expect--but we must make the best of what remains--" He sighed, and rose from his chair with a gesture which somehow made Betty conscious that he wished to be alone. It had been a very short chat, and the impression left was rather sad than cheerful. She put her arms round Miles' neck, kissed him fervently, but in silence, and stole away to her own room. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. MR. GERARD. Clad in an immaculate frock-coat, with a hat of irreproachable shininess on his head, a flower in his buttonhole, and every detail of his attire correctly up-to-date, "my chum Gerard" made his appearance to call at Brompton Square on the Monday afternoon following Miles' return.