"Can't have you at the Valentines'?"
"The wind has blown down part of their stack of chimneys; and the floors are all broken through. It is such a smash! Nobody can stay in the house; and they are in lodgings. Only two bedrooms; and Wallace has to sleep somewhere else. Of course there is no room at all for me, unless Prue turned out, and I couldn't let her do that. She is wanted, and besides, they will have such expenses now? And we thought you would let me come here."
"When did it happen?"
"Only this afternoon; not long before I arrived. Isn't it terrible for them? Mrs. Valentine and Prue were so good; but they couldn't keep me! At least, I couldn't let them! Felix, do you mind? May I stay, just a very little while? I couldn't go back to-night; it is too late. And to-morrow,—that would be such a tiny little peep . . . I do dread going back . . . Mrs. Bryant can't bear me; and even uncle thinks I did it."
"Did what?"
"That—oh, you know." She forgot that she had not told him. "It has been so hard to bear. Sometimes I have felt as if I must come away to you, and never go back . . . Felix, do love me just a little. Won't you?"
She tried to smile, and broke into a flood of tears.
Felix at first answered nothing. He was dumfounded by the revelation of what she had suffered, even though the cause of that suffering was still hidden. A wonder sprang up, how he could have been content to go carelessly on for so long a time, knowing no more. She clung to him as if for comfort; and Felix was glad that she could not see his face. In an unnecessarily gruff voice, he asked—
"What is all this about a bank-note?"
