Julia Brabazon could have made no man happy, but Florence Burton would be the sweetest, dearest, truest little wife that ever man took to his home.

He was thinking of this, and determined to think of it more and more daily, as he knocked at Lady Ongar's door.

"Yes; her ladyship was at home," said the servant whom he had seen on the railway platform; and in a few moments' time he found himself in the drawing-room which he had criticized so carefully when he was taking it for its present occupant.
He was left in the room for five or six minutes, and was able to make a full mental inventory of its contents.

It was very different in its present aspect from the room which he had seen not yet a month since.
She had told him that the apartments had been all that she desired; but since then everything had been altered, at least in appearance.

A new piano had been brought in, and the chintz on the furniture was surely new.