there and humming the air of a new song; but her cough, which was
incessant, made singing almost out of the question.

"I believe I'm getting worse," she cried, rising and flinging herself
on the sofa, "I'm sure I was not so bad as this three months ago--not
so bad when--he never came. Ah! why should he? How could I expect it?
Perhaps to-day may have been his wedding day! Come in."

The door opened noisily, and Saidie Blackall, very much over-dressed
and distinctly rouged and made up, entered, followed by Mr. and Mrs.
Doss, looking precisely the same as on that memorable night when they
had been the innocent cause of so much trouble to Bella's husband.
The old music-hall singer and his wife had lost no time in looking
her up when she returned from the States, and were really
well-meaning, kindly folk.

"Hallo, Bella, you look done up!"

"I am," admitted the girl wearily. "It was as much as I could do to
pull through to-night, and I have got a beastly new song to tackle."

"I don't like your cough, my dear," said Mrs. Doss, looking
distressed; "it shakes you to bits."

"I've got a little more cold, I fancy; but I'll be all right in a day
or two."

"You're not looking the thing--I saw you from the front
to-night--and--well, I guess it was a bit of a heffort to sing at
all, eh?"