With a book as a companion, Dexie was soon in her favorite retreat, for she had one cosy little corner which no one cared to dispute with her. The recess at the end of the upper hall she had curtained off, and besides the few blooming plants on the wide window-sill it held an old-fashioned but comfortable sofa, a big chair and a tiny table. It was here Dexie made up her housekeeping accounts, and performed such other duties as she could bring to her snug little corner. It was the one spot in the house which she claimed as her own. She had no sooner seated herself to read than the sound of the door-bell echoed through the house. It was several times repeated before Nancy appeared to answer the summons, and Dexie's heart seemed to leap up in her throat as she recognized Hugh's voice. But Nancy remembered the injunctions given her, and refused admittance, saying decidedly that the family were out; and when Hugh reminded her that Miss Dexie was at home, Nancy boldly said that Miss Dexie was not going to be disturbed by anybody. Dexie gave a sigh of relief as she heard the door shut and Hugh's step on the pavement below. She turned to her book and was soon lost to all outside influences in her sympathy for the heroine of the story, when a slight movement of the curtain caused her to look up. The book dropped from her fingers and she staggered to her feet, her face white, even to her lips. Terror seemed to rob her of all power to move or speak, as she gazed into the face before her that was almost as colorless as her own. With a quick movement Hugh dropped the curtain behind him and came forward with outstretched hands. "You cannot keep me away, Dexie. You refused to let me in at the door, but you forgot the secret passage in the attic. My darling! I did not intend to frighten you!" noticing for the first time how terrified she looked. "I only came to ask your forgiveness." He reached out his hands to catch her, but he was too late, for, as he spoke, she fell in a heap on the floor in a dead faint. With trembling hands Hugh lifted the unconscious form to the little sofa, and kneeling beside her bent over her, chaffing her hands and calling her by all the tender names which he had only dared to give her in his heart; and the pent-up emotions of weeks found relief in a shower of kisses, which rained on the upturned face and ruffled hair that framed it like a glory. It was very wrong of him, to be sure; but the man who is famishing, and who steals the loaf that will put life into his starving body, should not be severely dealt with, and Hugh's hungry heart was sadly in need of some satisfying food.