(a six months' engagement, Miss!) came to the office this morning.
It's another man's turn to be chosen--and the secretary will
recommend him. If my husband could only send his testimonials by the
same post--with just a word in your name, Miss--it might turn the scale,
as they say. A private recommendation between gentlefolks goes so far.'
She stopped again, and sighed again, and looked down at the carpet,
as if she had some private reason for feeling a little ashamed
of herself.

Agnes began to be rather weary of the persistent tone of mystery
in which her visitor spoke. 'If you want my interest with any
friend of mine,' she said, 'why can't you tell me the name?'

The courier's wife began to cry. 'I'm ashamed to tell you, Miss.'

For the first time, Agnes spoke sharply. 'Nonsense, Emily!
Tell me the name directly--or drop the subject--whichever you
like best.'

Emily made a last desperate effort. She wrung her handkerchief
hard in her lap, and let off the name as if she had been letting
off a loaded gun:--'Lord Montbarry!'

Agnes rose and looked at her.

'You have disappointed me,' she said very quietly, but with a look
which the courier's wife had never seen in her face before.
'Knowing what you know, you ought to be aware that it is impossible
for me to communicate with Lord Montbarry. I always supposed you
had some delicacy of feeling. I am sorry to find that I have