'There's no reason, now,' she continued, 'why we shouldn't talk about it--I mean, the things you discussed with Mamma. You imagine, I dare say, that I selfishly objected to what she was doing. Nothing of the kind. I didn't quite see why she had kept it from me, that was all. It was as if she felt afraid of my greediness. But I'm not greedy; I don't think I'm more selfish than ordinary people. And I think Mamma is doing exactly what she ought; I'm very glad she felt about things in that way.' Harvey nodded, and spoke in a subdued voice. 'I was only consulted about one person, whom I happened to know.' 'Yes--Mrs. Abbott.' Her eyes were again fixed upon him, and he read their curiosity. Just as he was about to speak, the servant appeared with tea. Alma slowly raised herself, and, whilst she plied the office of hostess, Harvey got rid of the foolish hat and stick that encumbered him. He had now no intention of hurrying away. As if by natural necessity, they talked of nothing in particular whilst tea was sipped. Harvey still held his cup, when at the outer door sounded a rat-tat-tat, causing him silently to execrate the intruder, whoever it might be. Unheeding, and as if she had not heard, Alma chatted of trifles. Harvey's ear detected movements without, but no one entered; in a minute or two, he again breathed freely. 'Mrs. Abbott----' Alma just dropped the name, as if beginning a remark, but lapsed into silence. 'Shall I tell you all about her?' said Rolfe. 'Her husband's death left her in great difficulties; she had hardly anything. A friend of hers, a Mrs. Langland, who lives at Gunnersbury, was very kind and helpful. They talked things over, and Mrs. Abbott decided to take a house at Gunnersbury, and teach children;--she was a teacher before her marriage.' 'No children of her own?' 'No. One died. But unfortunately she has the care of two, whose mother--a cousin of hers--is dead, and whose father has run away.' 'Run away?' 'Literally. Left the children behind in a lodging-house garret to starve, or go to the workhouse, or anything else. A spirited man; independent, you see; no foolish prejudices.' 'And Mrs. Abbott has to support them?' 'No one else could take them. They live with her.' 'You didn't mention that to Mamma.' 'No. I thought it needless.' The silence that followed was embarrassing to Harvey. He broke it by abruptly changing the subject. 'Have you practised long today?' 'No,' was the absent reply. 'I thought you looked rather tired, as if you had been working too hard.' 'Oh, I don't work too hard,' said Alma impatiently. 'Forgive me. I remember that it is a forbidden subject.' 'Not at all. You may ask _me_ anything you like about myself. I'm not working particularly hard just now; thinking a good deal, though. Suppose you let me have your thoughts on the same subject. No harm. But I dare say I know them, without your telling me.'