“Leave me alone,” she exclaimed impatiently, “don’t touch me! Go away!” “O! Hally,” the boy replied, sympathetically, “what is the matter? Has anyone offended you? Let me know! Let me try to comfort you! Or tell me what I shall do to help you.” “_Do!_” cried the girl, contemptuously, “what could you do?--a baby tied to your mother’s apron-string! Leave me to myself, I say! I don’t want you, or anyone! I want to be alone! Boys are of no use! It requires a _man_ to revenge a woman’s wrong!” The lad, after one long look of bitter disappointment, walked quietly away from the spot, and hid his grief in some sequestered part of the garden. Hally despised him--she, who had kissed him and let him lay his head upon her shoulder and tell her all his little troubles--said he was of no use, when she stood in need of help and comfort! When, if she only knew it, he was ready to stand up in her defence against twenty men, if need be, and felt strong enough to defeat them all! But she had called him a baby, tied to his mother’s apron-strings. The iron entered into his very soul. Meanwhile, Elinor Leyton, having blindly found her way out of the Red House, hailed a passing hansom, and gave the driver directions to take her to a certain number in Harley Street, where Margaret Pullen was staying with her godfather, Doctor Phillips. She knew no one else to whom she could go in this great trouble, which made her feel as if her life had suddenly been cut in two. Yet she made no outward moan. Most young women having kept a bold front, as she had done, towards the enemy, would have broken down, as soon as they found themselves alone. But Elinor Leyton was not in the habit of breaking down. As soon as she had started for her destination, she leaned her head upon the back of the cab, closed her eyes and set her teeth fast together. Her face grew deadly pale, and an observer would have noted the trembling of her lips, and the ball which rose and fell in her throat. But she uttered no sound, not even a sigh--her misery was too deep for words. Since she had returned to London, Margaret Pullen had stayed with Doctor Phillips, for he had insisted that it should be so. The telegram which had conveyed to Colonel Pullen the news of his little daughter’s death, had been answered by one to say that he had applied for immediate leave, and should join his wife as soon as he received it. And Margaret was now expecting his arrival, every day--almost every hour. She looked very sad in her deep mourning dress, as she came forward to greet Elinor, but as soon as she caught sight of her visitor’s face, she forgot her own trouble in her womanly sympathy for her friend. “My dear Elinor!” she exclaimed, “what has brought you to town? You have bad news for me--I can read it in your eyes. Nothing wrong with Ralph, I hope!”