"By-the-bye," observed Olivia, suddenly, "what have you decided to do with this house and furniture?" but Greta had evidently not taken these matters into consideration. "All the best things will go to Galvaston House, I suppose," she replied, looking round her, "but most of the furniture is old-fashioned and not up-to-date. I suppose people would call it handsome, and, of course, the oak in the dining-room is in thoroughly good taste. I must talk to Alwyn about it; perhaps it might be let furnished. Dear father used to say selling furniture was such a mistake,--one never got the full value." "I remember how grand I thought it the first day I called," returned Olivia, smiling. "The drawing-room with that beautiful conservatory opening out of it, and the plush curtains, and those luxurious couches made me feel so shabby. But I suppose the drawing-room at Galvaston House is still better. The glass door opening on the garden is so pleasant, and those Venetian cabinets and that carved settle are really beautiful." "Yes, and it would be such a pity to modernise the room. Besides, what does one want with a drawing-room at all? I am sure I never enter mine. I shall live in the morning-room and the studio, and I suppose in the evenings we shall be in the library. Ah, you are laughing, because I have thought it all out in this matter-of-fact way, but I assure you I hardly slept last night." And then by mutual consent they began on the mysteries of the _trousseau_, and they had not half finished when Olivia looked at the clock and declared that she had stayed too long. "The world goes up and the world goes down and the sunshine follows the rain," says the old song, and human life is certainly made up of passing clouds and gleams of sunshine. While Alwyn superintended the decorations of the new rooms at Galvaston House, and brought his artistic taste to bear on every petty detail for the use of his lady-love, and while Greta busied herself over her _trousseau_, Dr. Luttrell was engaged from morning to night among his patients. With the damp, foggy days of November had come the dreaded epidemic, influenza. All the doctors were overworked, and more than one of them succumbed to the malady,--amongst them Dr. Bevan. Marcus, who had been devoting himself to his poor patients, suddenly found the charge of a large practice thrown on him, and had scarcely time to take his meals. For a few days Dr. Bevan was extremely ill, and even when a short change had recruited his health it was evident that he would never be able to do the same amount of work again.