Margaret kissed it, and gave a long sigh of thankfulness. "She isn't angry," she said to herself, "and she understands. My mother always did, bless her." She rose and walked up and down the little drawing-room. She had not known till now how much she had longed for a letter, for some sign that she had not done a wicked or foolish thing when she fled from home. "Now I feel as if I can go on," she said, "and who knows but that some day I shall be a great actress as Miss Hunstan is--she has my letter this morning, I wonder what she'll say when she writes to me." The little clock on the mantel-piece struck ten. As if in answer to it there came a double knock to the street door, the sound of a voice and some hurried steps, and the next moment Tom Carringford walked in. Margaret started to her feet with a cry of surprise: "Oh," she said, "how did you know I was here?" "Miss Hunstan wired--had it ten minutes ago--so got into a hansom and came at once. And now what is the matter?" he asked, just as if he had a right to do so. He sat down in the easy-chair facing her, his face beaming with happiness, even though Mr. Garratt rankled in his memory. "Why are you in London? You said something about coming, in the wood that day, but I didn't think you meant it." "I am here just as Miss Hunstan is. I have taken these rooms, and want to be an actress as she was." "What for?"--his eyes were full of astonishment--"and what does your mother say to it?" "She understands. She knows that I can't go back till my father returns." "And what about Mr. Garratt?" his tone was brisk and gay, but he waited eagerly for her answer. "Oh!" and she grew crimson, "I did so want to tell you about Mr. Garratt, but I didn't feel I could unless you asked me. He came to see Hannah--" "I don't believe that," he laughed. "I saw Hannah, you know." "And then he thought--that--he liked me--and he said--well, he said things--you know," she added, rather lamely. Tom nodded to give her courage. "Well?" "And he went up to the wood when I was there, and Lena Lakeman came up and found him, and--and, oh, I hated Mr. Garratt," and she burst into tears. "I can't tell you how much I detested him, and yet you know he was very straightforward in a way, and he was not afraid of saying what he thought, and, of course, he couldn't help being vulgar--" "And what about Hannah?" "It was impossible to stay there with Hannah--and Mr. Garratt--and--all the scenes." She was confused and incoherent, but Tom made out the story in his own mind. "And then?" he said. "And then I slipped out in the darkness on Sunday night and came up here. I thought, perhaps, Miss Hunstan would help me." His face beamed with happiness. "Of course, I knew there couldn't really be anything between you and Mr. Garratt; only it looked very odd, didn't it? And then Lena told me about Sunday--about his being up there, you know, and how she found you--"