Life is but a hollow mockery to the woman, or the man, whose unrequited love fills the hours with an unsatisfied longing. When she awoke in the morning, the likeness to Drake of the man she had seen had grown vaguer to her mind, and she persuaded herself that it was a likeness only; but her restless night had made her pale and preoccupied; but Dick, when he came in to breakfast, was too engrossed and excited to notice it. "I've just been up to the house," he said, as he flung his cap on the sofa and lifted the cover from the savory dish of ham and eggs. "By George! we shall have to slip into it and look alive! The contractors have had a letter from Lady Angleford. It seems the earl's in England, and wants the place as soon as possible. The foreman has sent to London for more hands. I've wired the Bardsleys, telling them we've got to hurry up. It's always the way with these swells; when they want anything, they want it all in a minute. Something like ham and eggs! Rather different to the measly rasher and the antediluvian eggs from the grocer's opposite. But you don't seem to be very keen?" he added, as Nell pushed her plate away and absently took a slice of toast. "Miss the good old London air, Nell, or the appetizing smells of Beaumont Buildings?" "I've got a little headache; only a tiny one," said Nell, apologetically. "I shall go for a long walk after breakfast, and you will see that I shall be all right by lunch." "Don't talk of lunch to me!" he said. "I shan't have time for it. I shall take a hunk of bread and butter in my pocket, and nibble at it for a few minutes during the workman's dinner hour; you bet the noble British workman won't cut short his precious meal, bless him!" He was off again as soon as he had swallowed his breakfast, with his pipe in his mouth, and a roll of plans and drawings in his hand; and Nell, after gazing from the window at the avenue up which the horseman had ridden, put on her things and went down to the village, marketing. It was a picturesque one, and showed every sign of the sleepy prosperity which distinguishes a self-respecting English village lucky enough to lie outside the gates of such a place as Anglemere. It was like old Shorne Mills times to Nell, and her spirits rose as she walked along with her basket on her arm. The butcher touched his forehead and smiled with respectful admiration as she entered the tiny and scrupulously clean shop.