It was like contending with some hostile force of nature; lie spent
himself in vain.

As Hewett did not return, he at length took his leave, and went into
the back-room for a moment.

'She's asleep,' said Snowdon, rising from the chair where he had
been sitting deep in thought. 'It's a good sign.'

Sidney just looked towards the bed, and nodded with satisfaction.
The old man gave him a warm pressure of the hand, and he departed.
All the way home, he thought with singular interest of the bare
sick-room, of the white-headed man watching through the night; the
picture impressed him in a way that could not be explained by its
natural pathos merely; it kept suggesting all sorts of fanciful
ideas, due in a measure, possibly, to Mrs. Hewett's speculations.
For an hour he was so lost in musing on the subject that he even
rested from the misery of his ceaseless thought of Clara.

He allowed three days to pass, then went to inquire about Jane's
progress. It had been satisfactory. Subsequent visits brought him to
terms of a certain intimacy with Snowdon. The latter mentioned at
length that he was looking for two rooms, suitable for himself and
Jane. He wished them to be in a decent house, somewhere in
Clerkenwell, and the rent was not to be more than a working man
could afford.

'You don't know of anything in your street?' he asked diffidently.

Something in the tone struck Sidney. It half expressed a wish to