Would Marion be alone, her friend not yet well enough to be in the drawing-room? In that case what should he do? Could he ask for Miss Freer? Charlie’s “Madymuzelle.” He had never yet done so, and he dreaded servants’ tongues, even that of the discreet and amiable Thérèse. He felt considerably at a loss, and when he got to the top of the Rue St. Thomas, twice turned back and walked some few yards in the opposite direction while trying to decide on his next step. He might have saved himself the trouble. Just its he was preparing to ring the bell, the door was opened—by Marion herself. She started slightly when she saw him, “Oh,” said she, “I thought it was Dr. Bailey. I heard steps stop at the door and I ran to open quietly. I wanted to see him alone to ask how he thinks Mrs. Archer really is.” “Is Mrs. Archer worse then?” asked Sir Ralph with interest. “No, oh no. I think she is better. Almost well again indeed. But still I am not satisfied about her somehow, and Dr. Bailey is one of those people that talks to invalids as if they were babies. I thought perhaps if I saw him alone he would tell me the truth.” All this time they were standing in the doorway, Marion indeed blocking up the entrance. “Are you not going to ask me to come in, Miss Freer?” asked Sir Ralph. Marion looked uncomfortable, but could hardly help smiling as she replied: “Mrs. Archer has gone to bed.” “Then I shall not have the pleasure of seeing her. All the same, I think you might have the civility to ask me to come in.” Whereupon Marion drew hack laughing, and allowed him to enter the drawing-room. “You are expecting Bailey?” he said; “did he say he would call this evening?” “Yes, at nine o’clock. He wanted to see how Cissy was, after her drive this afternoon.” “At nine,” said Ralph, consulting his watch. “That’s still a quarter of an hour off. Are you busy, Miss Freer, or may I stay a few minutes?” adding to himself mentally, “I must take care that old gossip Bailey does not catch me here, A nice amount of mischief he would make, if he went chattering to my mother while away.” “Oh no, I’m not particularly busy,” replied Marion, rather sadly, it seemed to Ralph. “Indeed my evenings have been rather dull lately, but I hope Cissy will soon be all right again.” “I hope so too,” said Ralph, and then he sat still, utterly at a loss what more to say, and how to say it. Marion seemed calm and subdued. Perfectly free from nervousness or embarrassment, but yet in some subtle way he was conscious of a change in her.