When Sissie went away with the tea-things, Mr. Gunner came to the bedside to take leave. Sitting on the edge of the bed near Miriam’s chair he bent murmuring; Miriam rose to go; Mrs. Bailey’s hand restrained her. “I think you know” whispered Mr. Gunner, “what we are to each other.” Miriam made no reply; there was a golden suffusion before her eyes, about the grey pillow. Mrs. Bailey was clutching her hand. She bent and kissed the hollow cheek, receiving on her own a quick eager mother’s kiss, and turned to offer her free hand to Mr. Gunner who painfully wrung it in both his own. Outside in the darkness St. Pancras clock was striking. She felt a sudden sadness. What could they know of each other? What could any man and woman know of each other? When Mr. Gunner had gone and she was alone with Mrs. Bailey, the trouble lifted. It was Mrs. Bailey who had permitted it, she who would steer and guide, and she was full of wisdom and strength. She could unerringly guide anyone through anything. But how had she arrived at permitting such an extraordinary thing? “Poor boy,” sighed Mrs. Bailey. “Why poor boy? Nothing of the sort,” said Miriam. “Well, it’s a comfort to me you think that; I’ve worried meself ill over him. I’ve been keeping him off for over a twelvemonth.” “Well, it’s all settled now so you needn’t worry any more.” “It’s his age I look to; he’s only two and twenty,” flushed Mrs. Bailey. “He looks older than that.” “He does look more than his age, I allow; he never had any home; his father married a second time; he says this is the first home he’s had; he’s never been so happy.” All the time he had been halting about in the evenings in the dining-room, never going out and seeming to have nothing to do but a sort of malicious lying-in-wait to make facetious remarks, he had been feeling at home, happy at home, and growing happier and happier. Poor little man, at home in nothing but the dining-room at Tansley Street.... Mrs. Bailey..... Was he good enough for her? She had not always liked or even approved of him. “Well; that’s lovely. Of course he has been happy here.” “That’s all very well for the past; but there’s many breakers ahead. He wants me to give up and have a little home of our own. But there’s my chicks. I can’t give up till they’re settled. I’ve told him that. I can’t do less than my duty by _them_.” “Of course not. He’s a dear. I think he’s splendid.” But how generously glowing the struggling house seemed now; compared to a life alone, in some small small corner, with Mr. Gunner..... “Bless ’im. He’s only a clurk, poor boy, at thirty-five weekly.” “Of course clerks don’t make much; unless they have languages. He ought to learn one or two languages.”