But his thoughts were with the girl he had seen last in Mr. Slotman’s office. And he saw her in memory as he had seen her for one brief instant of time—softened and sweetened by some thought, some influence that had come to her for a moment. What influence, what thought, he could not tell; yet, as she had been then, so he saw her always and remembered her. A respectful manservant took Hugh’s coat and hat; he led the way, and flung a door wide. “General Bartholomew will be with you in a few moments, sir,” he said; and Hugh found himself in a large, old-fashioned London drawing-room. “To-morrow,” Hugh was thinking, “Hurst Dormer—work, something to occupy my thoughts till I can forget. It is going to take a lot of forgetting, I suppose I shall feel more or less a cad all my life, though Heaven knows—” He swung round suddenly. The door had opened; he heard the swish of skirts, and knew it could not be General Bartholomew. But who it would be he could not have guessed to save his life. They met again for the third time in their lives. At sight of him the girl had started and flushed, had instinctively drawn back. Now she stood still, regarding him with a steadfast stare, the colour slowly fading from her cheeks. And Hugh stood silent, dumbfounded, astonishment clearly shown on his face. CHAPTER XII “I TAKE NOT ONE WORD BACK” “I will do you the justice, Mr. Alston, to believe that you did not anticipate this meeting?” “You will only be doing me justice if you do not believe it,” Hugh said. The girl bent her proud head. “I did not know that you were a friend of General Bartholomew’s?” “Nor I till to-day, Miss Meredyth.” “I don’t understand.” Hugh explained that he had not seen the General since he was a child, till the General had unearthed him at the Northborough Hotel that afternoon. Joan frowned. Why had the General done that? Why had he, not three minutes ago, patted her on the shoulder, smiled on her, and told her to run down and wait for him in the drawing-room? Suddenly her face burned with a glowing colour. It seemed as if all the world were in league together against her. But this time this man was surely innocent. She had seen the look of astonishment on his face, and knew it for no acting. “I came here yesterday,” she said quietly, “in response to a warm invitation from the General, who was my father’s friend.” “My father’s too!” “I—I wanted a home, a friend, and I accepted his invitation eagerly, but since you have come—” “My presence makes this house impossible for you, of course,” Hugh said, and his voice was bitter. “Listen to me, I may never have an opportunity of speaking to you again, Joan.” He used her Christian name, scarcely realising that he did so.