comforts which are ordinarily so important to them. For themselves
alone women seldom care to exercise much trouble in this direction; but
the presence of a man at once excuses and renders necessary the
ceremony of a dinner. So Clara prepared for the arrival, and greeted
the corner with some returning pleasantness of manner. And he, too, was
pleasant with her, telling her of his plans, and speaking to her as
though she were one of those whom it was natural that he should
endeavour to interest in his future welfare.

'When I come back tomorrow,' he said, 'the will must be opened and
read. It had better be done here.' They were sitting over the fire in
the dining-room, after dinner, and Clara knew that the coming back to
which he alluded was his return from the funeral. But she made no
answer to this, as she wished to say nothing about her aunt's will.
'And after that,' he continued, 'you had better let me take you out.'

'I am very well,' she said. 'I do not want any special taking out.'

'But you have been confined to the house a whole week.'

'Women are accustomed to that, and do not feel it as you would.
However, I will walk with you if you'll take me.'

'Of course I'll take you. And then we must settle our future plans.
Have you fixed upon any day yet for returning? Of course, the longer
you stay, the kinder you will be.'

'I can do no good to any one by staying.'

'You do good to me but I suppose I'm nobody. I wish I could tell what