"Mr. Lister? Oh, you cruel-hearted girl: do you call him that?"
"I mean Cyril," said Bella hurriedly; "is he——"
"Yes, he is. He won't come to the Manor, and can't very well see you in his own rooms, as that nasty-minded Mrs. Block might say things. She is such a gossip you know. In despair he came to me, poor dear, so I asked him to wait in my sitting-room while I came for you."
Bella drew herself up stiffly. She did not desire to appear too willing to obey the summons of her lover. Womanlike, she wished him to say that he was in the wrong, so that her pride might be saved. "I am going to Mrs. Tunks'."
"What for?" asked Dora, bluntly.
"Never mind," replied Miss Huxham, unwilling to confess that she was dealing with uncanny things beyond the veil. "I must go."
Dora tripped lightly across the narrow planks, and slipped her arm within that of her friend. "You shall do nothing of the sort, you cold thing," she declared. "Poor Mr. Lister is quite broken-hearted by the way in which you have treated him."
"Oh!" Bella became stiffer than ever. "Has he said——"
"He has said nothing! he is too much a man to say anything. But I saw his poor, pale, peaked face, and——"
"Does he look ill?" Bella was seized with a sudden qualm.