Augusta rose as he advanced, and looked at him with a puzzled air, as
though she was striving to recall his name or where she had met him.

"I beg your pardon," he stammered, "I must introduce myself, as the girl
has deserted me--I am Eustace Meeson."

Augusta's face hardened at the name. "If you have come to me from Messrs.
Meeson and Co."--she said quickly, and then broke off, as though struck
by some new idea.

"Indeed no," said Eustace. "I have nothing in common with Messrs.
Meeson now, except my name, and I have only come to tell you how sorry
I was to see you treated as you were by my uncle. You remember I was in
the office?"

"Yes," she said, with a suspicion of a blush, "I remember you were
very kind."

"Well, you see," he went on, "I had a great row with my uncle after that,
and it ended in his turning me out of the place, bag and baggage, and
informing me that he was going to cut me off with a shilling, which," he
added reflectively, "he has probably done by now."

"Do I understand you, Mr. Meeson, to mean that you quarrelled with your
uncle about me and my books?"

"Yes; that is so," he said.

"It was very chivalrous of you," she answered, looking at him with a