'How annoying! I wanted particularly to see him. I have been
running about all day, and couldn't get here before. Something
important--most important. At all events, I can tell you. But I
entreat that you won't breathe a word save to your father.'

Mr Quarmby--that was his name--had taken a vacant chair and drawn
it close to Marian's. He was in a state of joyous excitement, and
talked in thick, rather pompous tones, with a pant at the end of
a sentence. To emphasise the extremely confidential nature of his
remarks, he brought his head almost in contact with the girl's,
and one of her thin, delicate hands was covered with his red,
podgy fingers.

'I've had a talk with Nathaniel Walker,' he continued; 'a long
talk--a talk of vast importance. You know Walker? No, no; how
should you? He's a man of business; close friend of Rackett's--
Rackett, you know, the owner of The Study.'

Upon this he made a grave pause, and glared more excitedly than
ever.

'I have heard of Mr Rackett,' said Marian.

'Of course, of course. And you must also have heard that Fadge
leaves The Study at the end of this year, eh?'

'Father told me it was probable.'

'Rackett and he have done nothing but quarrel for months; the
paper is falling off seriously. Well, now, when I came across Nat