looked radiantly happy. Clearly his thoughts were engrossed with
his own affairs, which, in other words, meant with Gertrude Morley;
and though, as I have since observed, there are times when a man in
love is an altogether intolerable sort of being, there are other
times when he is very much improved by the passion, and regards the
whole world with a genial kindliness which contrasts strangely with
his previous cool cynicism.

"How delightful and home-like your room always looks!" he exclaimed,
taking the cup of tea which Mrs. O'Reilly handed to him. "I am
horribly lonely at Ivy Cottage. This house is a sort of oasis in
the desert."

"Why, you are hardly ever at home, I thought," said Mrs. O'Reilly,
smiling. "You are the lion of the neighbourhood just now; and I'm
sure it is very good of you to come in and cheer a lonely old woman.
Are you going to play me something rather more lively to-day?"

He laughed.

"Ah! Poor Pestal! I had forgotten all about our last meeting."

"You were very much excited that day," said Mrs. O'Reilly. "I had
no idea that your political notions--"

He interrupted her

"Ah! no politics to-day, dear Mrs. O'Reilly. Let us have nothing
but enjoyment and harmony. See, now, I will play you something very
much more cheerful."