rose.

A pleasant little sitting-room, furnished in the taste of our time;
with harmonies and contrasts of subdued colour, with pictures
intelligently chosen, with store of graceful knick-knacks. Lilian's
person was in keeping with such a background; her dark gold hair,
her pale, pensive, youthful features, her slight figure in its loose
raiment, could not have been more suitably displayed. In a room of
statelier proportions she would have looked too frail, too young for
significance; out of doors she was seldom seen to advantage; here
one recognized her as the presiding spirit in a home fragrant of
womanhood. The face, at this moment, was a sad one, but its lines
expressed no weak surrender to dolefulness; her lips were
courageous, and her eyes such as brighten readily with joy.

A small table bore a tea-fray with a kettle and spirit-lamp; the
service for two persons only. Lilian, after looking at her watch,
ignited the lamp and then went to the window as if in expectation of
some one's arrival.

The house stood in a row of small new dwellings on the outskirts of
Clapham Common; there was little traffic along the road at any time,
and in this hour of twilight even a passing footstep became a thing
to notice. Some one approached on her side of the way she listened,
but with disappointment; it was not the step for which she waited.
None the less it paused at this house, and she was startled to
perceive a telegraph messenger on the point of knocking. At once she
hastened to the front door.

"Mrs. Quarrier?" inquired the boy, holding out his missive.