asked Anne Miller. Julian had dined with them, and they had just bidden him good-night. Amabel had accompanied her guest into the room that had been Miss Georgina’s, and was lingering a moment before going to her own. “That door? It goes through into my room.” “Oh, that’s nice,” said Miss Miller with obvious sincerity. “And Mr. Forsham is just across the passage—the door opposite yours.” A look of gratitude overspread the large, plain face. “I don’t know how you stayed here by yourself,” said Miss Miller. “I’ve often been quite alone in the Bungalow, and never minded a bit. Ferdinand’s away such a lot, you know; it wouldn’t do for me to mind. But I couldn’t stay here by myself. I can’t think how you do it.” “Well, it’s very nice to have you to-night,” said Amabel. “You’re sure you’ve got everything you want? Good night, then.” She opened the connecting door, and was about to close it again behind her, when Miss Miller’s voice called a little breathlessly: “Mrs.
