Alone once more, George Wainwright threw himself again into the easy-chair and renewed his pipe; but he shook his head more than ever, and when he did speak, it was only to mutter to himself: "Worse than I thought! Don't see the way out of that. Must look into this, and take care that Paul does not make a fool of himself." When the clock struck midnight he rose, yawned, stretched, and seemed more than half inclined to turn towards his cosy bedroom, which opened from the studio; but he shook himself together, and saying, "Poor dear, she would not sleep if I did not say goodnight to her, I suppose!" lit a lamp, and took his way across the garden to the house. CHAPTER VIII. CORRIDOR NO. 4. Across the garden, and through an iron gate which he unlocked, and which itself formed part of a railing shutting off one wing of the house from the rest and from the grounds, George Wainwright walked; then up a short flight of steps, topped by a heavy door, which he also unlocked with a master key which he took from his pocket, and which closed behind him with a heavy clang; through a short stone passage, in a room leading off which, immediately inside the door--a bright, snug, cheerful little room, with a handful of fire alight in the grate, and the gas burning brightly over the mantelpiece, and a tea-tray and appurtenances brightly shining on the table--was a young woman--handsome, black-eyed, and rosy-cheeked, tall, strongly built, and neatly dressed in a close-fitting dark-gray gown--who started up at the sound of the approaching footsteps, and presented herself at the door. "You on duty, Miss Marshall?" said George, with a smile and a bow. "Yes, Mr. George, it's my night-turn again; comes round quicker than one thinks for, or than one hopes for, indeed! Going to see your sweetheart as usual, Mr. George?" "Yes; I don't often miss; never, indeed, when I'm at home." "Ah, if all other men were as thoughtful and as kind and as true to their sweethearts as you are to yours, there would be less need for these sort of houses in the world, Mr. George," said the young woman, with a somewhat scornful toss of her head. "Come, come, Miss Marshall," cried George, laughingly, "you've no occasion to talk in that manner, I'm sure. Besides, I might retort, and say that if all women were as kind and as loving and as pleased to see their sweethearts as mine is to see me, if they remained true to them for as many years as mine has remained true to me, if they were as patient and as quiet--yes, and I think as silent--as mine is, they would have a greater chance of retaining men's affections." "Poor dear Madame!" said Miss Marshall. "Ah, you don't see many like her!" "I never saw one," said George. "But she will be keeping awake on the chance of my coming to say goodnight to her." And with another smile and bow he passed on.