"I can apply to an agency," replied Nora, very cold and white.
"My wife wouldn't have liked you to do that," Sir Ian said kindly. "And I shouldn't like it, either. I am going abroad," he added, "and I couldn't leave Friars' Moat without trying to arrange something for your future—something of which my wife would have approved."
"Oh!" exclaimed Nora, and then broke off, biting her lip, her large eyes full of tears. "I—I would rather not have—anybody arrange anything for me," she stammered on.
Mrs. Haynes was somewhat surprised at the girl's manner. She had always found Miss Verney most gentle, most amenable; and now, instead of being grateful to Sir Ian for the interest he took in her, despite his horrible trouble, she seemed almost to resent his having come to inquire and to plan for her welfare.
"I will just run away and leave you to discuss things together," suggested the vicar's wife, with the spasmodic cheerfulness rather irritatingly characteristic of her.
"No!" implored Nora. But Mrs. Haynes looked at the girl reproachfully, raising her eyebrows, and went out, with a slight warning shake of her incredibly sleek head.
Nora was left alone with Sir Ian. It was the first
