“The fact is, I am a little put out by having to change my quarters so abruptly,” said Arthur Arden. “I am going to Scotland in the beginning of September, but that is a long way off; and to go to one’s lodgings in town now is dreary work. Besides, I said to the Pimpernels when they drove me out--they actually turned me out of the house--I told them I was coming here. It was the only way I could be even with them. If there is a thing they reverence in the world it is Arden; and if they knew I was here----” “It does not entirely rest with me,” said Edgar, with some embarrassment. “Arden, we had a good deal of discussion on various subjects before I went away.” “Yes; you went in order to turn me out,” said Arthur meditatively. “By George, it’s pleasant! I used to be a popular sort of fellow. People used to scheme for having me, instead of turning me out. Look here! Of course, when you showed yourself my enemy, it was a point of religion with me to pursue my own course, without regard to you; but now, equally of course, if you take me in to serve me, my action will be different. I should respect your prejudices, however they might run counter to my own.” “That means----?” said Edgar, and then stopped short, feeling that it was a matter which he could not discuss. “It is best we should not enter into any explanations. Explanations are horrid bores. What I want is shelter for a few weeks, to be purchased by submission to your wishes on the points we both understand.” “For a few weeks!” said Edgar, with a little horror. “Well, say for a single week. I must put my pride in my pocket, and beg, it appears. It will be a convenience to me, and it can’t hurt you much. Of course, I shall be on my guard in respect to Clare.” “I prefer that my sister’s name should not be mentioned between us,” said Edgar, with instinctive repugnance. And then he remembered Mrs. Murray’s strange appeal to him on behalf of his cousin. “You have all but as much right to be in Arden as I have,” he said. “Of course, you must come. My sister is not prepared; she does not expect any one. Would it not be wiser to wait a little--till to-morrow--or even till to-night?” “Pardon me,” said Arthur; “but Miss Arden, I am sure, will make up her mind to the infliction better--if I am so very disagreeable--if she gets over the first shock without preparation. Is it that I am getting old, I wonder? I feel myself beginning to maunder. It used not to be so, you know. Indeed, there are places still--but never mind, hospitality that one is compelled to ask for is not often sweet.”