"Visits which were much appreciated," put in Maurice, "although we found that Lady Alice was too generous."
"Until I was warned by one of the patients that the others abused my kindness and traded on it," said Lady Alice, laughing rather nervously, "and then I drew in a little."
"What patient was that?"
"The name I think was Smith—the man who lost his memory in that curious way."
"Ah yes, I remember." And then Maurice knitted his brows and became very thoughtful: he looked as if a thoroughly new idea had been suggested to him.
Miss Brooke remarked that it was almost time to set out if they were to go to the club that afternoon, and Lady Alice went to her room for her cloak. She was before the looking-glass, apparently studying the reflection of her own face, when a knock at the door, to which she absently said "Come in," was followed by Caspar's entrance. She, thinking that it was her maid, did not look round, and he came behind her without being perceived. The first token of his presence was received by her when his arm was slipped round her waist, and his voice said caressingly and almost playfully in her ear, "I don't know that I want my dainty piece of china carried down into the slums."
"Am I nothing more to you than that?" said Lady Alice reproachfully.
He made no answer, but as he looked at the fair face in the glass, and as their eyes met, she thought that she read a reply in his glance.
"I have been nothing more—I know," she said, with sudden humbleness, "but if it is not too late—if I can make up now for the time I have lost——"
The tears trembled in her eyes, but he kissed them away with new tenderness, saying in a soothing tone—