CHAPTER VII.
Mr. Joshua Twisden was hardly dressed that morning, in the room adjoining his office, when he received a telegram—
Will be with you at three o'clock to-day.—Elizabeth Shaw."
And at this hour, having deposited her Iuggage with her maid at the Midland Hotel, and swallowed a hasty lunch, Elizabeth appeared at Gray's Inn. Business had called George Daintree away this afternoon, and it was one of the clerks who received and ushered her into the inner room, where Mr. Twisden sat. His right foot, in splinters, rested on a stool. He made an effort to rise, but she stopped him, putting both her hands in his.
"You must not treat me as a stranger, dear Mr Twisden. My father often spoke of you, and used to say you were his best friend, so that I feel as if I knew you well, instead of only having seen you once. You mustn't treat me with formality, therefore."
"My dear young lady," said the old man, with a glow of pleasure on his shrewd, kindly face, "it is a great satisfaction to know that you feel disposed to accord me the same confidence—I may say the same regard—
