circumstance that neither spoke at present was not the less marked. Yet if Chilver was waiting for something on his host's part he could scarcely have said for what. He was aware now that if Mrs. Damerel had, as he privately phrased it, 'spoken,' it was scarcely to be expected that the man with a standpoint altered by a definite engagement would—at the present stage at least—repeat to him her words. He felt, however, as the fruitless moments ebbed, a trifle wronged, at all events disappointed: since he had been dragged into the business, as he always for himself expressed it, it would only have been fair to throw a sop to his conjecture. What, moreover, was Braddle himself so perversely and persistently mum for—without an allusion that should even serve as a penance—unless to draw out some advance which might help him to revert with an approach to grace? Chilver nevertheless made no advance, and at last as, ceasing to stroll, they stood at the open door of an empty compartment, the train was almost immediately to start. At this moment they exchanged a long, queer stare.
'Well, good-bye,' said the elder man.
'Good-bye.' Chilver still waited before entering the carriage, but just as he was about to give up his companion added: 'You see I followed your advice. I took the risk.'
'Oh—about the question we discussed?' Chilver broke now, on the instant, into friendly response. 'See then how right I was.'
Braddle looked up and down the train. 'I don't know.'
'You're not satisfied?'
'Satisfied?' Still Braddle looked away.
'With what she has told you.'
Braddle faced him again. 'She has told me nothing.'
'Nothing?'
'Nothing. She has accepted me—that's all. Not a bit else. So you see you weren't so right.'
'Oh—oh!' exclaimed Chilver, protestingly. The guard at
