’That’s what I want to speak about, dear Mrs. Mumford.  Did you hear from my mother this morning?  Then you see what my position is.  I am homeless.  If I leave you, I don’t know where I shall go.  When Mr. Higgins knows I’m going to. marry Mr. Bowling he won’t have me in the house, even if I wanted to go back.  Cissy Will be furious:  she’ll come back from Margate just to keep up her father’s anger against me.  If you could let me stay here just a short time, Mrs. Mumford; just a few weeks I should so like to be married from your house.’

The listener trembled with irritation, and before she could command her voice Louise added eagerly: 

‘Of course, when we’re married, Mr. Bowling will pay all my debts.’

‘’You are quite mistaken,’ said Emmeline distantly, ’if you think that the money matter has anything to do with—­with my unreadiness to agree—­’

’Oh, I didn’t think it—­not for a moment.  I’m a trouble to you; I know I am.  But I’ll be so quiet, dear Mrs. Mumford.  You shall hardly know I’m in the house.  If once it’s all settled I shall never be out of temper.  Do, please, let me stay!  I like you so much, and how wretched it would be if I had to be married from a lodging-house.’

‘I’m afraid, Louise—­I’m really afraid—­’

‘Of my temper?’ the girl interrupted.  ’If ever I say an angry word you shall turn me out that very moment.  Dear Mrs. Mumford!  Oh! what shall I do if you won’t be kind to me?  What will become of me?  I have no home, and everybody hates me.’

’Tears streamed down her face; she lay back, overcome with misery.  Emmeline was distracted.  She felt herself powerless to act as common-sense dictated, yet desired more than ever to rid herself of every shadow of responsibility for the girl’s proceedings.  The idea of this marriage taking place at “Runnymede” made her blood run cold.  No, no; that was absolutely out of the question.  But equally impossible did it seem to speak with brutal decision.  Once more she must temporise, and hope for courage on another day.

’I can’t—­I really can’t give you a definite answer till I have spoken with Mr. Mumford.’

‘Oh!  I am sure he will do me this kindness,’ sobbed Louise.

A slight emphasis on the “he” touched Mrs. Mumford unpleasantly.  She rose, and began to pick out some overblown flowers from a vase on the table near her.  Presently Louise became silent.  Before either of them spoke again a postman’s knock sounded at the house-door, and Emmeline went to see what letter had been delivered.  It was for Miss Derrick; the handwriting, as Emmeline knew, that of Mr. Cobb.

‘Oh, bother!’ Louise murmured, as she took the letter from Mrs. Mumford’s hand.  ’Well, I’m a trouble to everybody, and I don’t know how it’ll all end.  I daresay I shan’t live very long.’

‘Don’t talk nonsense, Louise.’

‘Should you like me to go at once, Mrs. Mumford?’ the girl asked, with a submissive sigh.