"Would you advise us to go and try our fortunes in Australia, Miss Jerrold?" said Guest quietly, as he replaced the tiny cup in the middle of its saucer, after nearly sending it on the carpet. "No, I would not, you stupid boy. There, I don't mean you at all. I dare say Edie will be silly enough to let you wheedle her into matrimony some day--a goose." Guest touched his breast. "You? No," said the lady sharply, "Edie. But you two are nobodies. I was thinking about Mr Stratton, here. Now, don't you think, my dear, you had better give it all up?" She held out her hand with a look of gentle sympathy to him, and he caught it and kissed it. "Do you think I ever could?" he said, in a low voice while Guest began to display great interest in the painting of the teacup. "No, I suppose not," said Miss Jerrold, with a sigh. "It's very sad, you see, poor girl, she's going through a curious morbid phase which has completely changed her. All that time she had her ideas that it was her duty to wait and suffer; and I do honestly believe that if that man had behaved himself, been released on a ticket of--ticket of--what do they call those tickets, Percy?" "Leave," said the young barrister gravely. "Yes; of course--she would have considered it her duty to go to him if he had come to claim her; and then died of misery and despair in a month." "Had we not better change the conversation, Miss Jerrold?" said Stratton quietly. "Yes, of course. I'm a very stupid old woman, I suppose; but Myra does worry me a great deal. One moment, and I've done, and I suppose things must take their course. But all this treating herself as a widow and-- there--there--there--I have done. I suppose I need not tell you they are coming here to-day?" "I did hope to see Miss--" "Hush! Don't call her that, my dear. It must be Mrs Barron, or she will consider herself insulted. Ah, she's a strange girl, Mr Stratton, but we can't help liking her all the same, can we?" She held out her hand to him with a pleasant smile and a nod; and Guest saw his friend's eyes brighten, and then noted his passionate, eager look, as there was a ring and knock. But the ladies who came up were strangers; and it was not until quite the last that Myra and her cousin arrived, the former in black, and with a calm, resigned look in her pale face, which had grown very thoughtful and dreamy during the six months which had elapsed since that morning at breakfast, when the news came of James Dale's tragic end. And now her eyes softened as she greeted Stratton, and she sat talking to him in a quiet, subdued way, till the gentlemen took their leave, and made their way back to Benchers' Inn.