Tender recollections had both now of the strolls they used to take through the fields which surrounded their old home, which stood far enough outside Manchester to be free from the smoke of the factories. Mr Maybury revelled in the peace of the meadowland after the din of the city in whose midst he earned his money, and Dora, though she loved to romp with other girls, and to go to theatres and concerts and parties, preferred these quiet walks to anything else--the walks which came to an end when she was just merging into womanhood. And now they lived in a poor crescent, and one had to go by train to reach woods and green fields. On Sunday evenings now the clang of many bells came to their ears above the ceaseless hum of toiling omnibuses and trams, and the badinage of Londoners promenading--so sadly different was it all to the excursions of olden times, her little hand in his big one, the grave father’s voice mingling with her childish tones. Picture after picture presented itself to their minds in phantasmal fashion. There was the cool old church where they sat side by side in a roomy, ancient pew, Dora nestling close to her father and watching the preacher with wondering big eyes. Then there was the pleasant after-service talk with their neighbours, and finally the walk home along the leafy lanes, with Nature’s winged choristers chanting songs of the holy day, and all sorts of tiny hedge-people buzzing and laughing in the sunshine. "Father, you look so sad!" said Dora. "But there is still a month, and we must make the most of that--you and I! We will go to the theatre together--so as to be quite by ourselves--and sit in the pit and enjoy ourselves tremendously. It will be such a change, after stalls and boxes! I don’t suppose I shall ever sit in the pit after I am married." It seemed to Mr Maybury that her voice lost its gay ring as she uttered these concluding words, but it never occurred to him to ask her whether she was quite sure that she loved the man she was going to marry. He took it for granted that she did. They chatted on together until a clock near at hand tolled out "One." Then Mr Maybury said it was time they both went to bed. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, and then she held the light so that he might see his way down to the next landing. "Good-night, dear!" she said; and he, glancing upwards, thought he had never beheld so fair a picture as she made standing there in the dark doorway. [Illustration: "GOOD-NIGHT!"] And thus they parted--he to rest, she to think. For, long after the house was hushed in slumber, Dora paced up and down her little bedroom. Often she paused in front of her glass and communed with the white-faced reflection that gazed back at her. On their way home from the theatre, Harold Jefferson had told her that he intended to use all his influence to procure her father a more remunerative position at the office.