"I hope you will accompany them, Miss Clare," he said. "By this time you must be in no small need of a change yourself."
"The best change for me will be Lime Court," she answered, laughing.
"Now, pray don't drive your goodness to the verge of absurdity," he said pleasantly.
"Indeed, I am anxious about my friends there," she returned. "I fear they have not been getting on quite so well without me. A Bible-woman and a Roman Catholic have been quarrelling dreadfully, I hear."
Mr. Morley compressed his lips. It was annoying to be so much indebted to one who, from whatever motives, called such people her friends.
"Oblige me, then," he said loftily, taking an envelope from the mantle-piece, and handing it to her, "by opening that at your leisure."
"I will open it now, if you please," she returned.
It contained a bank-note for a hundred pounds. Mr. Morley, though a hard man, was not by any means stingy. She replaced it in the envelope, and laid it again on the chimney-piece.
"You owe me nothing, Mr. Morley," she said.
"Owe you nothing! I owe you more than I can ever repay."