as by an ether.

While she was dreaming the minutes away thus, a footstep came upon the
stairs, and in a moment she heard her husband's heavy step on the landing
immediately without.

'Ell, where are you?'

What possessed her she could not have described, but, with an instinctive
objection to let her husband know what she had been doing, she slipped
the photograph under the pillow just as he flung open the door, with the
air of a man who had dined not badly.

'O, I beg pardon,' said William Marchmill. 'Have you a headache? I am
afraid I have disturbed you.'

'No, I've not got a headache,' said she. 'How is it you've come?'

'Well, we found we could get back in very good time after all, and I
didn't want to make another day of it, because of going somewhere else to-
morrow.'

'Shall I come down again?'

'O no. I'm as tired as a dog. I've had a good feed, and I shall turn in
straight off. I want to get out at six o'clock to-morrow if I can . . .
I shan't disturb you by my getting up; it will be long before you are
awake.' And he came forward into the room.

While her eyes followed his movements, Ella softly pushed the photograph