They started to their feet, heard the street door open and close--then steps along the stairs, nearer and nearer--then came a knock at the door.

Mary opened it; the servant handed in a card and withdrew.

"Mr.J.A.

Hamilton." Florence passed out, Mary remained behind.
"Come, why do you linger ?" "I thought, Florry, you might wish to see him alone; perhaps he would prefer it." "Mary, you have identified yourself with us.

To my father we must be as one." She extended her hand, and the next moment they stood in the reception-room.
The father and uncle were standing with folded arms, looking down into the muddy street below.