"And, oh! Uncle Peter, he said the light had gone out of his life, and that he could never get over such a crushing blow, and that he wished he was—Uncle Peter, they—they always do get over it, don't they?"
"In no time at all," replied Sir Peter briskly, and helped himself to toast. There was a pause.
"Still, I doubt if Mr. Holroyd will get over it as quickly as that," said Phyllis thoughtfully.
"Haberdashers are a very present help in time of trouble," Sir Peter assured her. "They are a great comfort to young men in Mark's situation."
When she kissed him good-bye for the day, he said:—
"My little girl must wait a long while and meet many young men before she finally—er—finally—you know,—eh?"
But on that very afternoon she went with her friend, the Hon. Margaret Neville, to visit Saint Ruth's Social Settlement, in Whitechapel. And there she met John Landless. The Honorable Margaret introduced them.
"Hullo, Mr. Landless—oh! Miss Oglebay—Mr. Landless. It's her first time here. Show her about a bit like a good chap, will you, while I look for to see what my angel children's sewing-class is doing so blithely, blithely?"
John Landless looked at Phyllis, and Phyllis looked at John. If there is ever love at first sight! Perhaps it never happens in this prosy old twentieth century. But, if it ever does, then—there you are.
"It will be a pleasure to show you through the house," said John. "I wish Dr. Thorpe, the warden, were here, though? you should meet him; he's great. That is Mrs. Thorpe—over there, talking to the woman who is crying. She will have her straightened out before you can say Jack Robinson,—and no nonsense either."