discovered an inscription in faded ink which roused her
indignation. "To dear Catherine, from Herbert, on the anniversary
of our marriage." What unintended mockery in those words, read by
the later light of the Divorce! "Well, this is mean," said Mrs.
Presty. "Keeping that wretch's present, after the public exposure
which he has forced on you. Oh, Catherine!"

Catherine was not quite so patient with her mother as usual.
"Keeping my best remembrance of the happy time of my life," she
answered.

"Misplaced sentiment," Mrs. Presty declared; "I shall put the
book out of the way. Your brain is softening, my dear, under the
influence of this stupefying place."

Catherine asserted her own opinion against her mother's opinion,
for the second time. "I have recovered my health at Sandyseal,"
she said. "I like the place, and I am sorry to leave it."

"Give me the shop windows, the streets, the life, the racket, and
the smoke of London," cried Mrs. Presty. "Thank Heaven, these
rooms are let over our heads, and out we must go, whether we like
it or not."

This expression of gratitude was followed by a knock at the door,
and by a voice outside asking leave to come in, which was, beyond
all doubt, the voice of Randal Linley. With Catherine's book
still in her possession, Mrs. Presty opened the table-drawer,
threw it in, and closed the drawer with a bang. Discovering the
two ladies, Randal stopped in the doorway, and stared at them in