And from that night Mrs. Frank Raynor began a course of action that she would previously have believed herself incapable of. She watched her husband. In her eagerness to discover where these Bells lived--though what service the knowledge could render her she would have been at a loss to declare--she occasionally followed him. Keeping her bonnet downstairs in readiness, she would put it on hastily when he went out, and steal after him. Three or four times a-week she did this. Very contemptible indeed Daisy felt it to be, and her cheeks blazed consciously now and again: but jealousy has driven a woman to do more contemptible things than even this. But for the unsuitability of her present life, as contrasted with her previous tastes and habits and surroundings, and for its utter monotony, causing her to feel weary unto death day after day, Margaret Raynor might never so far have forgotten herself. The pursuit was quite exciting, bringing a sort of relief to her; and she resolutely put away from her all inconvenient qualms of conscience. So, imagine that you behold them. Frank turning out at the surgery-door, and hastening this way or that way, as if his feet were aided by wings: and when he is a few yards off, Daisy turns out after him. It would generally be a tedious and tormenting chase. He seemed to have so many patients to visit, here, there, and everywhere; on this side the street and on that side, and round the corners, and down courts, that his pursuer was generally baffled, lost him for good, and had to return home in despair. Meanwhile, as time went on, Frank, unconscious of all this, was destined to receive a shock himself. One evening, when he had been called out to a case of emergency near home, upon quitting the sick man's house, he entered a chemist's for the purpose of directing some article, which it was not in his province to supply, to be sent to the sufferer. Dashing into the shop hurriedly, for his time was not his own, he was beginning to give his order. "Will you send----" And there his speech failed him. He stopped as suddenly and completely as though his tongue had been paralyzed. The young man to whom he was addressing himself, with the attentive red-brown eyes in which gleamed a smile of intelligence, and the clean white apron tied round his waist, was Blase Pellet. They looked at one another in the full glare of the gas-light. Blase was the first to speak. "How do you do, Mr. Raynor?" "Is it _you?_" cried Frank, recovering himself somewhat. "Are you living here?" "Since a week past," replied Blase. "Why have you left Trennach?" "I came up to better myself," said Blase demurely. "One hears great things of fortunes being made in London." "And of being lost, Pellet," rejoined Frank.