The Paying Guest

fords and their only familiar acquaintances at Sutton. Mrs. Fentiman liked to talk of purely domestic matters, and in a stranger's presence she was never at eas

dy, a perfectly innocent mention of something her husband had told her, but, secretly, so disturbing Mrs. Mum

any moment. Wishing to be sure of privacy in a conversation wit

d. 'If this kind of thing goes on much longer I

range. I can hardly believe it;

? Really, o

ick were seen talking together at the station? Thursday:

s all men do, the undignified necessity of defending himself, he flew into a rage. Yes, it was true, and what next? The girl had waylaid him, begged him to intercede for her with his wife. Of course it

e replied coldly and loftily that the matter, of course, was done with; that it interested her no more; but that she could not help regretting an instance of secretiveness suc

'Miss Derrick has to leave the house, and

that Clarence would have nothing more to do with Miss Derrick's business. Whereupon Mumford took offence. Did Emmeline wish to imply that there had been anything improper in his behaviour beyond the paltry indiscretion

e to ignoble imaginings; but acquitting her husband by no means involved an equal charity towards Louise. Hitherto uncertain in her judgment, she had now the relief of an assurance that Miss Derrick was not at all a proper person to entertain as a guest, on whatever terms. The incident of the railway s

came into the room with her br

t kept you waiting f

have be

I'm not going to keep you

the real cause of what she was about to say-that would have seemed to her undignified; but sh

off her gloves. She understood what wa

say to me, M

feel obliged to ask you when you wi

d Louise, inspecting her finger-nai

ave us. Forgive this plain speaking, Miss Derrick. It's

t, Louise took it in good part. As if the idea ha

e had a very pleasant time here, but it wouldn't do for me to stay longer. May I

at. There are circumstances-private matters-I don't feel quite able to expl

ite a line and post it to-night,

ch perfect propriety. An outbreak of ill-temper, perhaps of insolence, had seemed more than likely; at best she looked for tears and entreaties. Well, it was over, and by Wednesday t

circle marked by Heaven.' At school, Emmeline had learnt and recite

oom, with a pleasant smile. 'Good-night, Mrs. Mumford.' 'Good-night, Miss Derrick.' For the grace of

each other. To-night they found themselves in a similar situation, and remembered that last difference, and wondered, both of them, at the harmony of their married life.

s of ourselves. Just tel

uilty of foolishness,'

re you angr

t like

ike it just as much. Wh

arrived, and her husband breathed an exclamation of pro

iked. The position seemed romantic and enjoyable. Not till after her actual marriage should the people at home know what had become of her. She was marrying with utter disregard of all her dearest ambitions all the same, she had rather be the wife of Cobb than of anyone else. Her stepfather might recover his old

next day at home, told her husband in the morning that

to fetch me from there,

hope that his wife did not mean to supervise him hencefor

ttled thing, and was quite unconnected with disagreeable circumstances. Only midway in the morning did Mrs. Mumford, who had been

Louise. 'I've lots to do. You'll g

nd Emmeline, after a last look into the nursery, hastened away to catch her

ly could be expected from Cobb, as he was not likely to have received her letter of last night till his retur

et it, as usual, upon the little black four-legged table in the drawing-room. And in the sa