They reached the house and Conway opened the door with his key and held out his hand. "Good-night," he said. Charlie's handshake was a hearty one. "Good-night!" he said. "Good-night! How long do you reckon it takes to walk to the station?" Conway smiled to himself as he put up the bolts. "I wonder," thought he, "I wonder if my turn will ever come!" CHAPTER II. LOVE AND MONEY. "I think," said Charlie, looking across the luncheon table at Mrs. Brougham. "I think that in about five weeks I could get a Friday to Monday, and come down if you will let me----" "Why, certainly," answered Mrs. Brougham, smiling back at the bright open face opposite her. She really liked him very much, but she shared something of Conway's feeling about the burglar. The idea that Denys belonged in any sense to anybody else, needed a good deal of getting used to. She had certainly wondered once or twice in the last three years whether young Henchman, who wrote so regularly to Denys, would ever become more than a friend. Charlie's telegram three days ago saying he had passed his final, and was coming up from Scotland to see about a post and would call at St. Olave's _en route_, had rather taken away her breath. His call had been only a short one, but he had asked if he might return the following day and tell them whether he had obtained the post. He had duly returned--successful--with a good berth--with prospects--with life opening out before him, and she had been surprised at the gravity and anxiety that had shadowed his face even when he spoke so hopefully of the good things that had come to him. But the shadow and the gravity were all gone now. It was only his fear that Denys would not see anything in him to love, that in the three years in which he had worked, and hoped, and loved her, she might have met someone else who was more worthy of her, and to whom she had given the love he so longed to gain. That very evening he had put his fate to the touch, over the nursery fire, while Denys waited to fetch away Tony's light, and now he was bubbling over with fun and laughter, and acting more like a big schoolboy than a sober young man who was contemplating the cares of matrimony. It seemed to Mrs. Brougham that the world had gone spinning round her in an unprecedented manner in the last twenty-four hours, and she was not sure whether she was on her head or her heels. Suppose Conway--or Gertrude--why, Reggie Alston wrote to Gertrude as regularly as the weeks went round!--or Willie---- She gave herself a mental shake and scolded herself for letting her head be turned with all these happenings. Why, Conway was only nineteen and Gertrude just eighteen, and what would schoolboy Willie say if she put him into such a line of possibilities! She brought her thoughts back to the conversation round the table, and found that Charlie was still in the full swing of plans.