"Do you mean that you were really and truly surprised that Mr. Franks behaved like a gentleman?" "Oh, Bertha!" protested the other. "What a word!" "Well, like a man, then." "Perhaps I oughtn't to have felt that," admitted Rosamund thoughtfully. "But I did, and it meant a good deal. It shows how very right I was when I freed myself." "Are you quite sure of that?" asked Bertha, raising her eyebrows and speaking more seriously than usual. "I never was more sure of anything." "Do you know, I can't help thinking it an argument on the other side." Rosamund looked her friend in the eyes. "Suppose it means that you were altogether mistaken about Mr. Franks?" went on Bertha, in the same pleasant tone between jest and earnest. "I wasn't mistaken in my own feeling," said Rosamund in her melodious undertone. "No; but your feeling, you have always said, was due to a judgment you formed of Mr. Franks' character and motives. And now you confess that it looks very much as if you had judged him wrongly." Rosamund smiled and shook her head. "Do you know," asked Bertha, after a pause, "that he has been coming to our house lately?" "You never mentioned it. But why shouldn't he go to your house?" "Rather, why should he?" asked Bertha, with a laugh. "Don't trouble to guess. The reason was plain enough. He came to talk about you." "Oh!" exclaimed the listener with amused deprecation. "There's no doubt of it; no--shadow--of--doubt. In fact, we've had very pleasant little chats about you. Of course I said all the disagreeable things I could; I knew that was what you would wish." "Certainly," fell from Rosamund. "I didn't positively calumniate you, but just the unpleasant little hints that a friend is so well able to throw out; the sort of thing likely to chill any one. I hope you quite approve?" "Quite." "Well, the odd thing was that they didn't quite have the effect I aimed at. He talked of you more and more, instead of less and less. Wasn't it provoking, Rosamund?" Again their eyes encountered. "I wish," continued Miss Elvan, "I knew how much of this is truth, and how much Bertha's peculiar humour." "It's substantial truth. That there may be humour in it, I don't deny, but it isn't of my importing." "When did he last come to see you?" Rosamund inquired. "Let me see. Just before he went to see you." "It doesn't occur to you," said Rosamund, slowly meditative, "that he had some other reason--not the apparent one--for coming to your house?" "It doesn't occur to me, and never will occur to me," was Bertha's amused answer. When it was time for Bertha to walk home wards, Rosamund put her hat on, and they went out together. Turning to the west, they passed along Cheyne Walk, and paused awhile by old Chelsea Church. The associations of the neighbourhood moved Miss Elvan to a characteristic display of enthusiasm. Delightful to live here! A joy to work amid such memories, of ancient and of latter time!