Nita blushed furiously, and Jerome said, more in the hope of annoying Miss Shuttleworth than from any other reason: ‘I am sure it is no question that is not perfectly justifiable, Miss Bolton, and therefore I promise in advance to answer it.’ ‘It was not exactly a question. You speak of Monk’s Gate as your only home, and of seeking employment; but I thought you were rich, Mr. Wellfield.’ ‘So did I, until a short time ago. I am just now in the process of learning completely to realise my mistake. I am a poor man, and am not quite certain that the wreck of my fortunes will leave me enough to enable me to bring my sister to Monk’s Gate, and make her a home there.’ ‘Have you a sister?’ asked Nita, who kept giving him very rapid, momentary glances, her eyes leaving his face almost before they had had time to find it, which glances he met with a calm, prolonged gaze, which did not escape the steely eyes of Miss Shuttleworth. ‘I have a sister—yes.’ ‘Is she with you?’ ‘No; she is at Elberthal, in Germany, with a friend.’ ‘How old is she?’ ‘Sixteen.’ ‘Is she pretty?’ ‘She is considered beautiful, I believe.’ ‘Like you at all?’ inquired Miss Shuttleworth, with a treacherous suavity in her tones. Jerome burst out laughing, and Nita blushed fiercely. ‘Oh, aunt, how uncomfortable you make me!’ she exclaimed vehemently. Miss Shuttleworth made no reply, then Nita went on: ‘I hope it is not rude of me, but are you and your sister alone in the world?’ ‘We are, quite.’ ‘And very fond of one another?’ ‘Y—yes.’ ‘That is, your sister is very fond of you,’ remarked Miss Shuttleworth. ‘I hope she is, and that she may never have cause to be otherwise,’ he replied politely. ‘It is very interesting!’ said Nita, with a little sigh, while Jerome thought, repressing a smile, what an amusing story it would make for Sara and Avice. ‘What is your sister’s name?’ next asked Nita. ‘Avice.’ ‘Avice? What a peculiar name.’ ‘It means “refuge,”’ observed Miss Shuttleworth. ‘Oh, does it?’ said Jerome, ‘I didn’t know that.’ ‘Do you think you will like living in England?’ pursued Nita. ‘No, I don’t, under the circumstances.’ She shook her head, and maintained silence. Miss Shuttleworth rose from her chair. ‘I must go,’ she remarked. ‘And do you go in too, Nita, soon. The damp rises from the river in the evening, and you have a thin dress on.’ ‘I shall not be long.’ ‘I am going to take this book with me. It is a very clever story. Where did you get it?’ ‘John brought it me from London. I haven’t read it. I saw a review of it in the ——, which made me think it was stupid.’ Miss Shuttleworth’s lips relaxed into a smile which was sardonic. This was a topic on which she evidently felt strongly.