you to ask her whether I am really free. Ask her whether I am free to
marry again."

Mr. Mott eyed him in amazement.

"You see, I only heard from her mother," pursued Mr. Hurst, "and a friend
of mine who is in a solicitor's office says that isn't good enough. I
only came down here to make sure, and I think the least she can do is to
tell me herself. If she won't see me, perhaps she'd put it in writing.
You see, there's another lady."

"But" said the mystified Mr. Mott.

"You told me----"

"You tell her that," said the other.

Mr. Mott stood for a few seconds staring at him, and then without a word
turned on his heel and went upstairs. Left to himself, Mr. Hurst walked
nervously up and down the room, and, catching sight of his face in the
old-fashioned glass on the mantel-piece, heightened its colour by a few
pinches. The minutes seemed inter-minable, but at last he heard the
steps of Mr. Mott on the stairs again.

"She's coming down to see you herself," said the latter, solemnly.

Mr. Hurst nodded, and, turning to the window, tried in vain to take an
interest in passing events. A light step sounded on the stairs, the door
creaked, and he turned to find himself con-fronted by Miss Garland.