"If you mean that Mr. Dixon has any intention of reopening the subject with you," said Charlotte, laying aside the sorely-darned stocking and taking up its fellow, "you are mistaken." Perhaps the act of stooping had brought the blood to her face, for there was a flush upon it when she lifted her head. "It is not often that I am." "Yet it may happen." The flush in her face had died away, and she was now gravely attending to her work. Mr. Fox-Cordery pulled down the ends of his little silky mustache. "Be careful how you address me, Charlotte. It is a long time since you and Mr. Dixon met." "No; we have seen each other several times this past year." "You made no mention to me of these meetings." "There was no reason why I should, Fox." "Did you inform mother?" "That is an unnecessary question. Had I informed her you would not have remained in ignorance. Mother keeps nothing from you." "You have grown into a particularly intelligent young woman," he said, and added spitefully, "Well, not exactly a young woman----" pausing to note the effect of the shot. "I am twenty-eight," said Charlotte, in her usual tone, "and you, Fox, will be forty soon." Her shot told better than his. "We will not continue the conversation," he said shortly. "As you please, Fox." He stepped to the fireplace, gave the bottle of flies a violent shake, looked at Charlotte as if he would have liked to serve her the same, and then resumed his place by the window, and drummed upon a pane. "Mr. Dixon's visit here was a presumption. How dare he intrude himself into this house?" "Settle it when he calls again," said Charlotte. "He came to see you upon some business or other." "Which you insist upon concealing from me." "Indeed I do not. I cannot tell you what I do not know." "At three o'clock, you say?" "Yes, at three o'clock." "I will consider whether he shall be admitted. Don't move, Charlotte." There was a fly on her hair, which he caught with a lightning sweep of his hand. As he thrust his unfortunate prisoner into the bottle he chuckled at the expression of disgust on Charlotte's face. The fly disposed of, he said: "Mother shall judge whether you are right or wrong." "Don't put yourself to unnecessary trouble," said Charlotte. "I can tell you beforehand how she will decide." The entrance of Mrs. Fox-Cordery did not cause her to raise her head; she proceeded with her darning, and awaited the attack of the combined forces. A singular resemblance existed between mother and son. Her face, like his, was of the hue of pallid wax, her eyes were blue, her hair sandy, and she spoke in a low and languid voice. She held an open letter in her hand.