‘Enough, dearest! You have told me much that may help me to a discovery I am anxious to make.’ ‘What discovery?’ ‘I must ask you to be patient, dear. You shall know all before long.’ ‘I have had some practice in patience, Lucius, and to-day I am too happy to complain. Do you think your sister will like me?’ ‘It is not possible she can do otherwise. I sent her a telegram this morning telling her to expect us.’ ‘She will be at the station to meet us, perhaps,’ said Lucille with an alarmed look. ‘It is just possible that she may.’ ‘O Lucius, I begin to feel nervous. Is your sister a person who takes violent likings and dislikings at first sight?’ ‘No, dear. My sister has some claim to be considered sensible.’ ‘But she is not dreadfully sensible, I hope; for in that case she might think me foolish and emptyheaded.’ ‘I will answer for her thinking no such thing.’ ‘Can you really, Lucius? But is she like you?’ ‘She is much better-looking than I am.’ ‘As if that were possible,’ said Lucille archly. ‘In your eyes of course it is not.’ ‘Mrs. Bertram is a widow, is she not?’ asked Lucille. ‘Pray don’t think me inquisitive; only you have told me so little, and I might make some awkward mistake in talking to your sister.’ ‘She is not a widow; but she is separated from her husband, who is a scoundrel.’ ‘I am so sorry.’ ‘Yes, dear; her life, since girlhood, has been a sad one. She made that one fatal mistake by which a woman can mar her existence—an unhappy marriage.’ ‘I shall be careful never to mention Mr. Bertram. Indeed, we shall have an inexhaustible subject of conversation in you.’ ‘You will soon wear that topic threadbare. After all, there is not often much interest in the childhood of great men. Here we are at the station.’ ‘How short the journey has seemed!’ said Lucille. ‘And yet we have been three hours on the road. Think of it as typical of our life journey, dearest, which will seem only too brief if we but travel together.’ The station was the most insignificant place in the world; yet all the great folks who went to Mardenholme had to alight here. Foxley-road was the name of the station, but Foxley itself was a long way off, so far that the designation seemed intended to deceive. There was a stunted omnibus to meet the train, labelled Mardenholme and Foxley—Foxley was the name of that obscure spot where Geoffrey Hossack had found his lost love—but not in the stunted omnibus was Lucille to travel to her destination. Janet and Janet’s little girl were there to meet her in a wagonette borrowed for the occasion, and driven by an ancient man in knee-breeches, whose garments, though clean and tidy, diffused a faint odour of pigs. Before Lucille had time to wonder how Janet would receive her, she found herself in Janet’s arms.