"We did not wait dinner for you, not knowing how late you would be," resumed his wife. "Will you have a steak cooked, or what shall I order for you?" "I had some dinner in town; all I want is a cup of tea." His daughter rang the bell, and presently a tea equipage was brought in. "You are not looking at all well, papa," said Fanny, as she handed him a cup. "I hope you are not going back to that horrid Bank to-night." "I am quite well, my dear," he said. "A little tired with my journey; that's all. I must go to the Bank for a couple of hours." He drew her face down to his own and kissed it. "There now, you have disarranged my collar, you dear old bear," she said, turning to survey herself in the glass over the chimney-piece. "You scarcely ever spend an evening at home nowadays, James," said Mrs. Hazeldine, in the complaining tone to which her husband was well used. "You seem to care for nothing but the Bank. Instead of taking things easy as you get older, you seem to have to work harder every year that you live." "I hope we shall see more of you at home when Mr. Avison gets back," remarked Fanny. Mr. Hazeldine shivered, and then he sipped at his tea. "Do you know what I am going to do?" he asked, presently. "I am going to take a long, long holiday." "Oh, papa! when--when?" cried Fanny the excitable. "Almost immediately." "You darling old crocodile! I'm languishing to visit Switzerland again. But, of course, one can't go there at this time of year. The Riviera, and then on to Rome, would be delightful. I am dying to see Rome." "Give me Paris, either in winter or summer," said Mrs. Hazeldine, with the air of a person who knows her own mind. "I care nothing for a parcel of mouldy ruins, but I do love nice shops; and there are no shops in the world equal to those of Paris." CHAPTER II. "FAREWELL, A LONG FAREWELL."