There is evidently a strong sympathy between them--a sympathy of suffering, I think, for with all his charm, it is evident that Mr Hallett is not a happy man. He says little about himself, but I gather that he travels a great deal, that he writes for various reviews, and that--to say the least of it--he is not overburdened with wealth. He never mentions any "belongings," and is evidently unmarried. I wonder why, for he is certainly unusually attractive. Sometimes when we have been sitting talking together, I have been so conscious of this attraction that I have had quite a violent longing to be Evelyn Wastneys once more, and to meet him, so to speak, on his own ground! He is most nice to me--oh, most nice! He thinks me a kind, sensible, generous old dear; says I deserve a Victoria Cross, and that no block of mansions is complete without me. One night he asked me smilingly if I would come and nurse him if he were ill; another time he said he could almost find it in his heart to wish that my money would disappear, so that he could engage me as a permanent housekeeper. Then Mr Thorold interrupted, and said that the first claim was his, and that if my services were to be bought, no other man should have them unless over his own dead body. They argued jestingly, while I blushed--a hot, overwhelming blush, and seeing it, they paused, looking mystified and distressed, and abruptly changed the conversation. Did they think me ridiculous and a prude, or did that blush for the moment obliterate the sham signs of age, and show them for the moment the face of a girl? I should like to know, but probably I never shall. For four long weeks Billie's life hung in the balance, for after the pneumonia crisis was passed, unconsciousness continued, and the terrible word "meningitis" was whispered from lip to lip. There were heart-breaking days to be lived through, when the terror was no longer that he might die, but that he might live--deprived of speech, of hearing, possibly of reason itself. Never while I live shall I forget those days; but looking back, I can realise that they have taught me one great lesson, branded it on heart and brain so that I can never, never forget. The lesson is that death is not the last and worst enemy which we are so apt to think it when our dear ones are in its grasp. Oh, there were hours of darkness in which death seemed to us a lovely and beautiful thing, when we blamed ourselves for shrinking from the wrench of giving back a little child into God's tender care. Who could compare a darkened life on earth with the perfected powers, the unimaginable glories of eternity? There were times when our prayers were reversed, and we asked God to take Billie home!