Who this could be, the Pomfrets had no idea.

Warburton, though he affected equal ignorance, could not doubt but that it was himself, and he grew inwardly angry.

Franks had been to Bath, and had obtained a private interview with Winifred Elvan, in which (Winifred wrote to her aunt) he had demeaned himself very humbly and pathetically, first of all imploring the sister's help with Rosamund, and, when she declared she could do nothing, entreating to be told whether or not he was ousted by a rival.

Rather impatient with the artist's follies than troubled about his sufferings, Will came home again.

He wrote a brief, not unfriendly letter to Franks, urging him to return to his better mind--the half-disdainful, half-philosophical resignation which he seemed to have attained a month ago.