game of bezique, in order that she might have a farewell chat with her
friend.

She had mildly deprecated Miss Wickham's carelessness in not altering
her will, but had reminded Miss Marsh that she should be grateful to her
late employer for having had such kindly intentions toward her, vaguely
ending her remarks with the statement that as her dear husband had
always said in this imperfect world one had often to consider
intentions.

It was from her more humble friends that Nora found it hardest to part.
She had had tea with the gardener's wife and children of whom she was
genuinely fond. But it was the parting from Kate that had brought the
tears to her eyes. She had confided to that motherly soul how large she
had loomed in the rosy plans she had made while she still had
expectations from Miss Wickham, and been assured in turn that Kate
couldn't have fancied herself happier than she would have been in
looking after her, and the faithful Kate refused to regard the plan as
anything more than postponed. It developed that she was an adept in
telling fortunes with tea leaves. She hoped her dear Miss Marsh wouldn't
consider it a liberty for her to say so, but in every forecast that Kate
had made for herself in the last twelfth month, Miss Marsh had always
been mixed up, which showed beyond the peradventure of a doubt that they
were to meet again.

It was already dusk when London was reached, but Nora had an address of
an inexpensive little private hotel which the doctor's wife had given
her. She had written ahead to engage a room so that her mind was at ease
on that subject. Not knowing exactly where the street might be, further
than that it led off the Strand, she indulged herself in the novel