Eliza meekly received her dismissal, and went into the kitchen. At half-past eleven o'clock Missy heard the gate open, and went forward to meet Mr. Andrews at the door.
"You are very tired," she said, falteringly.
"I believe I am," he returned, following her into the parlor. She was shocked when she saw him fully in the light of the lamp. He looked tired indeed, and begrimed with smoke, his coat torn, his arm tied up in a rude fashion, as if it had been hurt.
"Sit down," she said, hurriedly pulling out a chair. He stumbled into it.
"I really didn't know how tired I was," he said, laying back his head.
"Can't I get you some coffee, or some wine? You ought to take something at once, I think."
"I'd like a glass of wine," he said, rather faintly. "Here's the key. You'll find it in the sideboard."
But when he attempted to get the hand that wasn't bandaged into his pocket, he stopped, with a gesture of pain.
"Confound it!" he said; "it's a strain, I suppose;" and then he grew rather white.
"Let me get it," said Missy, hurriedly.