him. "Now get off."

Mr. Hurst still murmuring apologies, went, and Mr. Mott, also murmuring,
returned to bed. The night was chilly, and it was some time before he
could get to sleep again. He succeeded at last, only to be awakened an
hour later by a knocking more violent than before. In a state of mind
bordering upon frenzy, he dived into his trousers again and went
blundering downstairs in the dark.

"Sorry to--" began Mr. Hurst.

Mr. Mott made uncouth noises at him.

"I have altered my mind," said the young man. "Would you mind letting me
have that letter back again? It was too final."

"You--get--off !" said the other, trembling with cold and passion.

"I must have that letter," said Mr. Hurst, doggedly. "All my future
happiness may depend upon it."

Mr. Mott, afraid to trust himself with speech, dashed upstairs, and after
a search for the matches found the letter, and, returning to the front
door, shut it on the visitor's thanks. His niece's door opened as he
passed it, and a gentle voice asked for enlightenment.

"How silly of him!" she said, softly. "I hope he won't catch cold.
What did you say?"

"I was coughing," said Mr. Mott, hastily.