"That George is a dratted nuisance, that's what he is. He never is anywhere to be found when you want him. You remember, William, me telling you about Tom Gibbs? My old sweetheart, you know, he was. He went away to make his fortune, and I was to wait for him till he came back, and I daresay I should have waited if you hadn't just happened to come along." "I wish I hadn't just happened, then. I wish she'd waited for you, Gibbs. It'd have been better for me, and worse for you, old man." "That's what they all say, you know, after a time." Mrs. Morgan laughed. But Mr. Morgan did not seem to be in a particularly jovial frame of mind. "It's all very well for you to talk, you know, but I don't like the way things are managed in this house, and so I tell you. There's your new lodger come while you've been out, and her room's like a regular pig-sty, and I had to show her upstairs myself, with the shop chock-full of customers." Mr. Morgan drew his hand across his nose. "See you directly, Gibbs; some one must attend to business." Mr. Morgan withdrew to the shop. Mr. Gibbs and his old love were left alone. "Never you mind, William. He's all right; but he's a bit huffy--men will get huffy when things don't go just as they want 'em. I'll just run upstairs and send the lodger down here, while I tidy up her room. The children slept in it last night. I never expected her till this afternoon; she's took me unawares. You wait here; I shan't be half a minute. Then we'll have a bit of dinner." Mr. Gibbs, left alone, sat in a sort of waking dream. Could this be Nelly--the Nelly of whom he had dreamed, for whom he had striven, whom he had come to find--this mother of five? Why, she must have begun to play him false almost as soon as his back was turned. She must have already been almost standing at the altar steps with William Morgan while writing the last of her letters to him. And had his imagination, or his memory, tricked him? Had youth, or distance, lent enchantment to the view? Had she gone back, or had he advanced? Could she have been the vulgar drab which she now appeared to be, in the days of long ago? As he sat there, endeavouring to resolve these riddles which had been so suddenly presented for solution, the door opened and some one entered. "I beg your pardon," said the voice of the intruder, on perceiving that the room was already provided with an occupant. Mr. Gibbs glanced up. The voice fell like the voice of a magician on his ear. He rose to his feet, all trembling. In the doorway was standing the other Nelly--the false, and yet the true one. The Nelly of his imagination. The Nelly to whom he was to have been married that day. He went to her with a sudden cry. "Nelly!" "Tom!" She shrank away. But in spite of her shrinking, he took her in his arms. "My own, own darling." "Tom," she moaned, "don't you understand--I'm not Nelly!" "I know it, and I thank God, my darling, you are not." "Tom! What do you mean?"