"Of course I am glad to see you, but I am not glad you have come, my dear Laura. What am I to do with you? I am not alone here, you know. The house is full of servants; any moment someone may come in. Think of the awkward position in which your precipitancy has placed me--has placed both of us!" "I never thought of that--I did not know. Why did you not tell me you were with your uncle? Oh, Stephen, why have you hidden things from me?" "Hidden things?" he echoed, with ill-concealed impatience. "I did not think that it was worth telling. I did not know that I was coming--I was fetched suddenly. Now that I come to think of it, I told Slummers to call and tell you." "And he forgot it--on purpose. I hate Slummers!" "Poor Slummers!" murmured Stephen. "Never mind him, however. We must think now of what is to be done with you. You--you cannot stay here." "Can I not? No, I suppose not. I can go back," she added, with a touch of bitterness. "My darling," he said, coaxingly, "I am afraid you must go back. There is an up-train--the last--in half an hour." The girl leaned back and clasped her hands in her lap. "I am very sorry," he said, grasping her arm; "but what can I do? You cannot stay here. That's impossible. There is only one inn in the place, and your appearance there would arouse curiosity, and--oh, _that_, too, is quite impossible! My poor Laura, why did you come?" "Yes," she said, slowly, "it was foolish to come. You are not glad to see me, Stephen." He bent over her and kissed her, but she put him from her with a touch of her hand, and rose wearily. "I will go," she said. "Yes, I was wrong to come. Tell me the way," and she drew her jacket close. "Don't look so grieved, dear," he murmured. "What am I to do? If there was any place--but there is not. See, I will come with you to the station. We shall have to walk, I am afraid; I dare not order a carriage. My poor child, if you had only foreseen these difficulties." "Do not say any more," she interrupted coldly. "I am quite convinced of my folly and am ready to go." "Sit down and wait while I get my hat. We must get away unobserved. Suspicious eyes are watching my every movement to-night. I can't tell you all, but I will soon. Sit down, my darling; I will not be gone a moment. If anyone comes to the door, step through the window and conceal yourself." Unlocking the door noiselessly he went out, turning the key after him. Barely a minute elapsed before he was in the room again. Warm though the night was he put on an overcoat and turned up the collar so that it hid the lower part of his face. Locking the door after him, he came up to the table, poured out another glass of brandy-and-water, and got some biscuits. "Come," he said, "you must eat some of these. Put some in your pocket. And you must drink this, my poor darling, or you will be exhausted." She put back the glass and plate from her with a gesture of denial.