In a vague way they understood Mortomley had lost a lot of money, and they at once offered hospitality to his wife and himself; what more could those people do who were totally ignorant of business, and who only imagined it meant something "horrid in the City;" but Dolly was smarting just then under the blows she had received from Messrs. Swanland, Dean, Forde, Kleinwort, Werner, to say nothing of the other creditors who, in the Homewood days, had represented to Mortomley's wife that he ought to pay up like a man, and she failed to do justice to the delicate if ignorant kindness which tried to make her comprehend change of circumstances could produce no coldness with acquaintances who had shared the festivities of Homewood in the prosperous days departed. Dolly was at her wits' end, as I have said. So far she had honestly been able to pay her way, but the supplies were running very short indeed, and she could see no source from which they could be replenished. "I might sell my watch," she thought; "I suppose some jeweller would buy it, but that money would not last long. I wish I could teach music or sing or play, or write a novel"--poor Dolly evidently had the distressed heroine of a work of fiction in her mind--"but I am a useless little fool; I cannot even do worsted work or embroidery. Archie ought not to have married me; any other woman could think of something; could have done what Lang suggested, for instance," and the head, which still bore its great tower of plaits and frizettes, drooped sadly while she mechanically shifted the remaining sovereigns one after another from hand to hand. As she sat thus she heard the garden-gate open and shut, but imagining that it had been opened and shut by Susan, she did not alter her position. Next moment, however, a knock roused her completely, and standing up she went to the door and opened it. A lady stood on the top step of the flight; but in the darkness, with her eyes blind almost with looking at the firelight and the future, Dolly did not recognize Mrs. Werner. "Dolly," said the visitor softly. "Nora," answered Mrs. Mortomley, and then they held one the other in a clinging embrace. "Come in, dear," Dolly said, and after one look round the house, the poor little house as it seemed to her, unknowing what a haven of refuge it had proved, Mrs. Werner did so. "I only returned on Friday," Mrs. Werner began, sitting on the sofa and holding both Dolly's hands in hers, "and I could not get over to you on Saturday or yesterday, and I was doubtful about to-day, and consequently did not write, but I wanted to see you so much, your letters have been so short and unsatisfactory. You must tell me everything. First, how is your husband?" "Better," answered Mrs. Mortomley. "Better, but not well. He has gone to London with Rupert to see the Christmas show set out in the shop windows," Dolly added with a curious smile. "What is he doing?" asked her friend.