Since the occasion last recorded, Bertha Cross had not been to the shop. One day, the order was brought by a servant; a week later, Mrs. Cross herself appeared. The querulous lady wore a countenance so nearly cheerful that Warburton regarded her uneasily. She had come to purchase tea, and remarked that it was for use during a seaside holiday; you could never depend on the tea at seaside places. Perhaps, thought Will, the prospect of change sufficed to explain her equanimity. But for the rest of the day he was so glum and curt, that Allchin frequently looked at him with pained remonstrance. At home, he found a telegram on his table. He clutched at it, rent the envelope. But no; it was not what he expected. Norbert Franks asked him to look in that evening. So, weary and heartsick as he was, he took the train to Notting Hill Gate. "What is it?" he asked bluntly, on entering the studio. "Wanted a talk, that was all," replied his friend. "Hope I haven't disturbed you. You told me, you remember, that you preferred coming here." "All right. I thought you might have news for me." "Well," said Franks, smiling at the smoke of his cigarette, "there's perhaps something of the sort." The other regarded him keenly. "You've done it." "No--o--o; not exactly. Sit down; you're not in a hurry? I went to Walham Green a few days ago, but Bertha wasn't at home. I saw her mother. They're going away for a fortnight, to Southwold, and I have a sort of idea that I may run down there. I half promised." Will nodded, and said nothing. "You disapprove? Speak plainly, old man. What's your real objection? Of course I've noticed before now that you have an objection. Out with it!" "Have you seen Miss Elvan again?" "No. Have you?" "Two or three times." Franks was surprised. "Where?" "Oh, we've had some walks together." "The deuce you have!" cried Franks, with a laugh. "Don't you want to know what we talked about," pursued Warburton, looking at him with half-closed eyelids. "Principally about you." "That's very flattering--but perhaps you abused me?" "On the whole, no. Discussed you, yes, and in considerable detail, coming to the conclusion that you were a very decent fellow, and we both of us liked you very much." Franks laughed gaily, joyously. "_Que vous etes aimables, tous-les-deux_! You make me imagine I'm back in Paris. Must I round a compliment in reply?" "That's as you like. But first I'll tell you the upshot of it all, as it shapes itself to me. Hasn't it even dimly occurred to you that, under the circumstances, it would be--well, say a graceful thing--to give that girl a chance of changing her mind again?" "What--Rosamund?" "It never struck you?" "But, hang it all, Warburton!" exclaimed the artist. "How _should_ I have thought of it? You know very well--and then, it's perfectly certain she would laugh at me." "It isn't certain at all. And, do you know, it almost seems to me a point of honour."