"Quite right of you to throw yourself as much with her as possible; but don't take her away just yet. You have given me most admirable aid, Miss Merton, and have managed this affair with a delicacy and discretion which do you infinite credit, and which I shall never forget. Will you add to your favour?" "Willingly if I can, Colonel--I mean Mr. Wilson," says Bella, with a blush. "How is it to be done?" "By getting yourself a dress, or mantle, or something of that new brown colour which has just come into fashion, about which all the ladies are raving, and which I am sure would become you admirably, and by wearing it the next time I have the pleasure of receiving a visit from you," says the Colonel, pressing a bank-note into his visitor's hand. "And now goodbye. Not a word of thanks; I told you at the beginning this was a mere matter of business; I am merely carrying out my words." "You wish me still to see Fanny, and to let you know anything that may transpire?" asks Bella. "Certainly; though perhaps I may soon---- However, never mind; write always to the same address, and keep me well informed." Miss Merton goes tripping through the Temple, in great delight at the crisp little contents of her purse that she has just received from the Colonel, and commanding great tribute of admiration from the attorneys' clerks who catch glimpses of her through the grimy windows behind which they are working; and Colonel Orpington, _alias_ Mr. John Wilson, sits with his feet before him on the fender, smoking slowly, and cogitating over all he has heard. It is dusk in the Temple precincts, though still bright light outside, before he rises from his chair, flings the but-end of his last cigar into the fire, and says to himself: