"No," he replied shortly, and the colour came into his cheeks again, making them tingle, so that he stamped his foot and snatched up the violin strings again to go on with his selection. "There, I shall have these four," he said, forcing a smile, "and if they don't turn out well I shall patronise your rival, Miss Clode." "My rival!" exclaimed the little woman, turning pale. "Oh, I understand. Yes, of course, Mr Linnell. Those four. Let me put them in paper." "No, no. I'll slip them in this little case," he said, and he laid four shillings on the counter. "I'd really much rather you did not pay for them," she protested, and very earnestly too. "Then I won't have them," he said; and, with a sigh, Miss Clode placed the money in her drawer. "I hope you were not one of the party who serenaded a certain lady on that terrible night of horrors, Mr Linnell," she said, smiling; and then, noticing quickly the start he gave, "Why, fie! I did not think you thought of such things." "Yes; don't talk about it, I beg," he exclaimed. "It was by accident. I did not know I was going there." "But surely, Mr Linnell, you don't think--Oh!" She stood gazing at him with her lips apart. "Miss Clode," he said firmly, "I do not confide to people what I think. Good-morning." "No, no: stop," she said earnestly; and he turned, wondering at her tone of voice, and agitation. "What do you mean?" he said. "Only--only--that I have known you so long, Mr Linnell, I can't help-- humbly, of course--taking a little interest in you--you made me feel so proud just now--when you tore up those foolish women's letters--and now--" "Well, and now?" he said sternly. "It troubled me--pray don't be angry with me--it troubled me--to think-- of course it was foolish of me, but I should not--should not like to see you--" "Well, Miss Clode, pray speak," for she had stopped again. "See you make an unworthy choice," she faltered. "Miss Clode, this is too much," he said, flushing angrily, and he turned and left the shop, the little thin pale woman gazing after him wistfully and sighing bitterly as he passed from her sight. "I'm--I'm very fond of him," she said as she wiped a few weak tears from her eyes. "Such a brave, upright, noble young fellow, and so gentle one moment, and so full of spirit the next. Dear, dear, dear, what a thing it is! He never wastes money in gambling, and wine and follies. Perhaps he would though, if he were as rich as the rest of them. And he ought to be." She wiped her eyes again, and as she did so the woman's entire aspect changed. For just then Miss Cora Dean was driven by in a hired carriage, her dark eyes flashing, half veiled as they were by the long fringe of lashes, and then she was gone.