"How is my elderly dove-coloured friend this morning?" he asked. "That
dinner with her was one of the great events of my life. I didn't suppose
such people existed any more."

"Perhaps you'll stay to breakfast with her," suggested Honora, smiling.
"I know she'd like to see you again."

"No, thanks," he said, taking her hand, "I'm on my way to the train--I'd
quite forgotten it. Au revoir!" He reached the end of the porch, turned,
and called back, "As a 'dea ex machina', she has never been equalled."

Honora stood for a while looking after him, until she heard a footstep
behind her,--Mrs. Holt's.

"Who was that, my dear?" she asked, "Howard?"

"Howard has gone, Mrs. Holt," Honora replied, rousing herself. "I must
make his apologies. It was Mr. Brent."

"Mr. Brent!" the good lady repeated, with a slight upward lift of the
faint eyebrows. "Does he often call this early?"

Honora coloured a little, and laughed.

"I asked him to breakfast with you, but he had to catch a train. He
--wished to be remembered. He took such a fancy to you."

"I am afraid," said Mrs. Holt, "that his fancy is a thing to be avoided.
Are you coming to Silverdale with me, Honora?"