‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. . He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. There was nothing to replace the all important letter from her father.
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