Brendon saw nothing for it but to go, yet he hesitated to abandon the chance of learning something from Miss Bull. He stared at her pinched, white face and wondered if it would be any good appealing to that love of romance which is inherent in the heart of every woman. Old and withered as Miss Bull was, she might soften under the influence of a love-tale. Brendon disliked telling his business to strangers, especially anything regarding Dorothy, whom he looked upon as a sacred vestal not to be lightly mentioned. However, so much was at stake that he determined to speak openly, on the bare chance of Miss Bull yielding. But he could not speak in the presence of the girl Margery. She was such a sullen animal that to mention his love in her presence would be like casting pearls before swine. He therefore turned to Miss Bull, who stood with folded hands, eyeing him frigidly. "If I could see you alone," said Brendon. Miss Bull cast a shrewd glance at him, rapidly made up her mind and told Margery to go. The girl looked at him tigerishly, as she was evidently jealous, and sulkily withdrew. When the door was closed Brendon resumed his seat, but Miss Bull remained standing. This was not a good sign; but George was now committed to a certain course and had to follow it. "Miss Bull," he said deliberately, "what I am about to tell you, being my own private business, I must ask you to keep to yourself." "I don't want to hear it," said Miss Bull. "I never care for other people's secrets." "This is not a secret, Miss Bull. It is merely that I am engaged to be married." "Indeed, and what interest can that have for me, Mr. Brendon?" "This much. You are a woman and must feel interested to a certain extent in a love romance. I am aware that I am appealing to you in a way which you may regard as foolish, but I am so anxious for certain information, and, from what Mr. Ireland said, you alone can give it. To put the thing in a nutshell--I am in love, and you can forward my marriage if you will." Miss Bull heard him in silence, but as he talked a faint crimson flushed her face and a softer light shone in her hard eyes. She put her hand to her heart, as though she felt a cruel pain, and sank into a chair. Alarmed by her pallor, which had now returned, George would have called for assistance, but she stopped him. "I shall be all right shortly," she muttered in faint tones. "Marriage, love, what have I to do with such things?" She paused, and then continued, her voice gathering strength as she proceeded, "Who is the bride, Mr. Brendon?" "She is not a bride yet; she never may be," replied the young man, gloomily, "for if she does not become my wife she will accept no one else. I can trust her implicitly. Her name is Dorothy Ward." Miss Bull rose with an ejaculation and her face grew red. "Is her mother the Honorable Mrs. Ward who married Lord Ransome's son?" "Yes. Do you know her?" asked George, surprised at her emotion.