less gangs, walking nowhere in particular, so long as they reached a sufficiently distant public house.
I reached the ‘Hollies.’ It was much more spruce than it had been. The yard, however, and the stables, had again a somewhat abandoned air. I asked the maid for George.
“Oh, master’s not up yet,” she said, giving a little significant toss of her head, and smiling. I waited a moment.
“But he rung for a bottle of beer about ten minutes since, so I should think——” she emphasised the word with some ironical contempt, “—he won’t be very long,” she added, in tones which conveyed that she was not by any means sure. I asked for Meg.
“Oh, Missis is gone to church—and the children—But Miss Saxton is in, she might——”
“Emily!” I exclaimed.
The maid smiled.
“She’s in the drawing-room. She’s engaged, but perhaps if I tell her——”
“Yes, do,” said I, sure that Emily would receive me.
I found my old sweetheart sitting in a low chair by the fire, a man standing on the hearthrug pulling his moustache. Emily and I both felt a thrill of old delight at meeting.
“I can hardly believe it is really you,” she said, laughing me one of the old intimate looks. She had changed a great deal. She was very handsome, but she had now a new self-confidence, a fine, free indifference.
“Let me introduce you. Mr. Renshaw, Cyril.
