"Refused him! but why? Sam thinks him one of the finest men he knows, kind, good as gold, and very successful in his profession. You would be so comfortable, Evelyn, and all your problems solved." Miss Tripp arose. She was looking both defiant and unhappy now, but prettier withal than Elizabeth had ever seen her. "I don't want to be _comfortable_, as you call it, Betty," she said passionately. "I--I want--to be _loved_. If he had even pretended to--like me, even a little. But I--I had told him all about my perplexities, I'm sure I can't imagine why--except that I pined for something--sympathy, I thought it was, and he--offered me--money. Think of it, Elizabeth! And when I refused, he--offered to marry me. He said he could make me--comfortable!" Her voice choked a little over the last word. "Of course," she went on, "I know I'm not young and pretty any more; but--but I--couldn't marry a man who was just sorry for me, as one would be sorry for a forlorn, lost ki-kitten!" "He does love you, Evelyn; I'm sure he does," Elizabeth said convincingly. "Only he--doesn't know how to say so. If I could only----" Miss Tripp looked up out of the damp folds of her handkerchief. "If you should repeat to Mr. Hickey anything I have told you in confidence, Elizabeth, I think I should die of shame," she quavered. "Promise me--promise me you won't speak of it to anyone!" Elizabeth promised at once, with an inward reservation in favour of Sam, who could, she was sure, bring order out of this sudden and unexpected chaos in her friend's affairs. "I am positive that you are mistaken, Evelyn," she repeated, as she embraced and kissed her friend at parting. "I wish you would change your mind." But Evelyn shook her head with the gentle obstinacy which Elizabeth remembered of old. "I seldom change my mind about anything," she said; "and in this case I simply couldn't. Good-bye dear, dear Betty; and thank you a thousand times for all your kindness to me." She turned to wave a slim hand to Elizabeth, who stood watching her departure with a curious mingling of exasperation and regret. A whiff of familiar perfume greeted her upon re-entering the sitting-room and her eyes fell at once upon Evelyn's muff, which she had deposited upon the floor beside her chair and quite evidently forgotten. It was a handsome muff of dark mink, a relic of Evelyn's more fortunate days. Elizabeth stood caressing it absent-mindedly, wondering how she could best restore it to its owner without vexatious delay, when her eyes fell upon Carroll and Doris coming in at the front gate with joyous hops, skips and jumps indicative of the rapture of release from school. "Here, dears!" she exclaimed, "Aunty Evelyn has just gone, and she has left her muff; take it and run after her; then come directly home. Your lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes." XX