and wandered out alone for his meals, mysteriously refusing the hospitality
which his friends pressed on him. It was plain that he was very poor, and
Dick conjectured that he sent what he earned to an aunt in his native
village; but he was so silent about such matters that, outside of his
profession, he seemed to have no personal life.

Miss Verney's companion having presently advised her of the lapse of time,
there ensued a general leave-taking, at the close of which Dick accompanied
the ladies to their carriage. Darrow was meanwhile blundering into his
greatcoat, a process which always threw him into a state of perspiring
embarrassment; but Mrs. Peyton, surprising him in the act, suggested that
he should defer it and give her a few moments' talk.

"Let me make you some fresh tea," she said, as Darrow blushingly shed the
garment, "and when Dick comes back we'll all walk home together. I've not
had a chance to say two words to you this winter."

Darrow sank into a chair at her side and nervously contemplated his boots.
"I've been tremendously hard at work," he said.

"I know: _too_ hard at work, I'm afraid. Dick tells me you have been
wearing yourself out over your competition plans."

"Oh, well, I shall have time to rest now," he returned. "I put the last
stroke to them this morning."

Mrs. Peyton gave him a quick look. "You're ahead of Dick, then."

"In point of time only," he said smiling.