The next morning when she rose, the feeling of anger was still paramount. She had suffered so keenly yesterday that she did not think it possible that she could feel any greater pain, and she found it difficult to realise yet all that this sudden breaking with St. John must mean. She steeled herself to meet her old pupil with composure though she had not yet determined upon what she should say or do. At first she had thought of writing and forbidding him ever to come to the Art School again, but had subsequently rejected this plan as impracticable; what reason had she to offer? She could not say on account of your engagement, such an excuse would have placed her in a false position, and given St. John a right to put what construction he chose upon her motive. The only thing that remained for her was to receive him, and by saying as little as possible convince him how indifferent she was, and how very determined at the same time. And at nine thirty sharp he arrived, clattering up the steep stairs like a noisy schoolboy and marching through the open door straight into the studio where Jill stood white and nervous, but outwardly calm, waiting to receive him. There was a pleased, eager, confident air about him in striking contrast to the chilling quiet of her manner, and he grasped her hand before she could prevent him with a very hearty grip of genuine sincerity. "This is good to see you about again," he began. Then he stopped short struck by something in her face, and exclaimed anxiously. "Nothing the matter I hope, Miss Erskine?" Jill was standing with her back to the light so that she had the advantage of him that way; but St. John's sight was good and he detected at once the suppressed agitation of her manner; though she, herself, was unaware of it there was a whole life's tragedy in the depths of her grey eyes. "No," she answered; "nothing beyond a trifling annoyance that I have been subjected to lately, and which I have determined to put an end to for good and all. It is absurd of course and really not worth discussing, but these petty worries are even more trying than big ones." "If it is not worth discussion," he said, "we'll let it slide for to-day at any rate. I have got so much to say that is worth discussing, that I want to say it at once. I give you fair warning that I haven't come to work." As a matter of fact there was no work put ready for him; but he had not time to notice that. He was so boyish and impulsive, so gay and self-complacent that her anger gathered strength from his sheer light-heartedness. "Come and sit beside me on the stool by the window, Jill," he said, "and then we can talk at our ease." It was the first time that he had addressed her by her Christian name, and he glanced at her half smiling, half diffident, to see how she would take it.