"'And what to follow, sir?' I says. 'Oh, one of your nice rice puddings; that will be just the kind of dinner I like.' Another day it's sausage, or a bit of bacon, or bread and cheese, and not too much of any of them either. Why, my last lodger would clear off in one meal double what he eats in a day! And such a nice gentleman, too—always so pleasant, and thanks you for all you do for him just as if you didn't get paid for doing it. And so hard as he works, too! Why, if you'll believe me, he's at them books and accounts, and them business letters of his, long after I've gone to bed. I hear him come upstairs, and I know he's tired by his step, and well he may be, for he's tramping about most of his time."
Mrs. Hall loved a chat, and would have gone on for much longer enlarging on the many good qualities of her lodger, if she had not at that moment heard the sound of a key being put into the latch of the door.
"Why, there he is at last!" she said. "I'll go and make the tea."
Marjorie's heart was beating very quickly now. She heard the door open and Mrs. Hall's voice outside.
"Why, you're not half wet, sir. Let me take your coat."
Then the well-known voice: "Thank you, Mrs. Hall, it will be all the better for a dry by your fire."
"There's a lady waiting to see you, sir, in the parlour there; she's been here the best part of the afternoon."
"A lady for me!"
He stopped to ask no question, but came quickly into the room.
"Miss Douglas, you here!"