"Will you think over it, my dear," said Mrs. Trevor, "and let me know?"
"I will think over it and let you know. You are very kind to me. I scarcely know how to thank you enough," replied Florence.
"As to the terms," continued Mrs. Trevor, "they would be very moderate. My cottage is my own, and I have few expenses. I could take you in and make you comfortable for fifteen shillings a week."
"Oh!" said Florence. She thought of that money which was getting daily less. She looked into the lovely garden and her heart swelled within her. Her first impulse was to throw her arms round Mrs. Trevor's neck: to say it would be peace, comfort, and happiness to live with her. She would save money, and her worst anxieties would be removed. But she restrained herself. There was a heavy weight pressing against her heart, and even the widow's kindness scarcely touched her.
"I will let you know. You are more than kind," she said.
A moment afterwards she had said good-bye to Mrs. Trevor, and Maurice and she were hurrying down the hill to meet the omnibus which was to convey the girl back to Prince's Mansions.
"My mother has told you what we both wish?" he said. "To be honest with you, I feel that we owe you something. I am usurping your place; I can never get over that fact."
"I wish you wouldn't think of it, for it is not the truth," said Florence. "I have told you already that even if you did not exist I should never inherit a farthing of my aunt's money, and what is more," she added, the crimson dyeing her cheeks, "I wouldn't take it if she offered it to me."
"You are a strange girl," he said. He bade her good-bye as she entered the omnibus, and then turned to walk up Hampstead Hill once again.
The next day at twelve o'clock Florence Aylmer, neatly dressed, and looking bright and purposeful, and no longer overpowered by any sense of remorse, appeared at Mr. Anderson's office. She was received with the politeness which is ever accorded to the successful. The very clerks in the outer office seemed to know that she was not to be confounded with the ordinary young person who appears daily and hourly offering unsaleable wares. Florence's wares were saleable—more than saleable. She was ushered into a room to wait for a moment, and then very soon Franks appeared on the scene.