CHAPTER VIII.
The young man whom Elizabeth had brushed by walked straight into Mr. Joshua Twisden's room, after hanging up his hat in the outer office.
"Was not that Miss Shaw who passed me on the stairs?" he asked, as he entered.
"Yes," said Mr. Twisden, leaning back in his chair. He had arranged that, as his nephew was out of the way, he would not mention the visit he had received at present, but now———
"About her marriage?" pursued George Daintree.
"The engagement is broken off."
"Broken off?"
"Yes; and I am heartily glad of it."
"Why was it broken off. Do you know?"
The old solicitor, leaning on his elbows, tapped the points of his fingers together with diplomatic finesse.
"I suppose because Miss Shaw found she did not care enough for the man."
His nephew eyed him keenly. "Why should she have come herself to tell you this—and alone? Couldn't her uncle have written to say it was all off?"
Joshua Twisden had implicit confidence in his nephew's tact and discretion. How much of the interview with
