"Basil," she said thoughtfully, "did you come into my room last night?" "Your room? Your bedroom?" "Yes, long after I had left you?" "No dear. Of course not! Why?" "I had a queer feeling that someone was in the room." He stumbled over his words. "I--I dreamt of you last night." Her mouth drooped; he saw the quiver of her nostril. "Oh--don't dream of me any more," she said. "Good-bye." "Good-bye, Theresa." "May I kiss you? Stoop down. Lower, lower. How tall you are!" She kissed him on each cheek. "I always liked that little hollow place," she said, and left him with the sound of her sobbing breath for company. * * * * * George and Edward Webb, eating their hybrid meal at seven o'clock, were startled by the entrance of Theresa. Above her coat collar and below the veil banded across her forehead, her eyes were luminous and black-rimmed. Edward Webb sprang up and, forgetting the restricting presence of his brother, exclaimed anxiously: "My dear, my dearest! what is the matter?" "Nothing, dear. It's nice to see you." "You look ill, Theresa." "I've had a journey, and the train jolted so." "Where's Basil?" "In his home, I hope." She became flippant for the benefit of Uncle George. "I'd better tell you. I have resigned the situation. Do you think I can have some of your tea?" "H'm, and now, I suppose, you'll be wanting another?" "Will you find me one, Uncle George? If not, I've no doubt Mr. Smith will take me back." Edward Webb still held Theresa's hand. "I think," he said with dignity, "we need not discuss the matter until Theresa has had some tea. You're cold, my dear." "Desperately," she said. He seated her by the fire, and brought her tea, and ordered Bessie to bring hot toast. "Lots of it, please, Bessie," said Theresa. "And more coal, and perhaps we'd better have Miss Grace." "No, not Miss Grace until to-morrow." "But, my dear, I'm afraid you're going to be ill. You're shivering." "It's just a cold. I want to be alone with you to-night." "Well, I'm going to finish my tea, anyhow," said Uncle George. She nodded at him, laughing. He nodded back, in his grim way. This was how they always told each other of their friendship. "And there was a time when I didn't like you!" she exclaimed involuntarily. He ducked his head again. "I'm quite aware of that, my girl." He went to his harmonium, and Bessie, with a thousand fancies in her romantic heart, retired to wash up the dishes. "Now tell me," said Edward Webb. "It was only because I didn't love him enough," she said, and burst into a foolish weakness of tears. He was pacing behind her chair, and she heard him muttering: "Thank God! thank God! Are you crying, Theresa? You mustn't do that, my dear. You've come home. I've got you back again. You must be happy." He patted her clumsily on the shoulder, and she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. "It's good to have you back. We've missed you. Even George admitted that."