"I came here to try and discover where you lived, Miss Enderby."

There was something grotesque in this abruptness; his tone only
saved it from impertinence. The girl looked at him with frank
surprise.

"Pray don't misunderstand me," he went on hurriedly. "I wished, if
possible, to--well, to tell you that I feared I acted
thoughtlessly the other day; without regard, I mean, to any
consequences it might have for yourself."

"Rather I ought to thank you for defending me. It made no difference
in the way you mean. It had already been decided that I should
leave. I did not suit Mrs. Tootle."

It was very pleasant to look down into her earnest face, and watch
it as she spoke in this unrestrained way. She seemed so slight and
frail, evidently thought so depreciatingly of herself, looked as
though her life had in it so little joy, that Waymark had speedily
assumed a confident attitude, and gazed at her as a man does at one
whom he would gladly guard and cherish.

"You were certainly unsuited for the work, in every way," he said,
with a smile. "Your efforts were quite wasted there. Still, I am
sorry you have left."

"I am going into a family," were her next words, spoken almost
cheerfully. "It is in the country, in Essex. There are only two
children, quite young. I think I shall succeed better with them; I
hope so."