Nigel almost uttered the word—"Ethel!" Almost, but not quite. It was leaving his lips, when he caught it back. Once within that room, how could he tear himself away? There were reasons why it might be better not. With an effort Nigel turned and walked out of the gate. And as he went, he found himself face to face with somebody coming in—a large loosely-built man in a greatcoat, walking with the tired stoop in head and shoulders often born of a hard day's work. The light of the nearest lamp fell upon a rugged face, full of the beauty of goodness. "Anything wanted?" asked the Vicar. Mr. Elvey never by any chance passed a human being who might "want" something of him. "No—thanks," Nigel answered dutifully, hoping but not wishing to pass on. "I know that voice!" said the Vicar. CHAPTER II THE DAUGHTERS OF THE HOUSE "There are briars besetting every path, Which call for patient care."—A. L. WARING. "FULVIE—" "Anice, my dear, allow me to remark that the way to get work done is not to sit in a brown study for exactly half-an-hour." "Half-an-hour!" "A metaphorical one, of course. How many stitches have you put into that leaf since dinner?" "I don't know—but—I can't imagine why Nigel didn't settle to come home to-night." "No train, he says." "But there is a train." "He thought there was not." "Daisy found one directly she looked—just at the right time." "Daisy's a clever young woman. Daisy isn't Nigel, however." "No—" and a pause, Anice leaning back dreamily. "No. But I have been wondering—what if Nigel did know of the train, only perhaps he wanted a night in London." "Why shouldn't he have said so, then? You little wretch, to suspect him of deceit." "Oh no—only perhaps he might have been glad of the excuse. I mean, he might have made the mistake first, and then not have cared to change. He might have been afraid that we should mind his not hurrying home, if he did stay." Fulvia stamped her foot. "Anice, you put me out of patience. But you are all alike! You none of you understand Nigel—never did, and never will, I suppose. You needn't stare at me so reproachfully, for it is true. Now do get on with that unfortunate leaf. What shade do you mean to use next?" Three girls—Mr. Browning's two daughters, Anice and Daisy, and his ward, Fulvia Rolfe—sat alone in the Grange drawing-room. Lamps and candles dotted about the large room gave a pleasant light; curtains were drawn, and a fire blazed.