When she realized this fact, Enid rose from her seat with a murmur of dismay.

In her sharply feminine sense of loss, she took one involuntary step towards the door; but almost as the step was taken, her anger, her shattered faith assailed her anew, and, with a fresh burst of tears she turned and flung herself back upon the couch.
For a long time she lay with her face among the pillows; then, at last, as her angry sobs died out and the violence of her grief subsided, she sat up, wiped her eyes, and glanced at her dripping handkerchief.
[Illustration: "WITH A FRESH BURST OF TEARS, SHE TURNED AND FLUNG HERSELF UPON THE COUCH"] At sight of the handkerchief--a mere wisp of wet cambric--her sense of injury stung her afresh, and once more her lips began to quiver; but fate had decided against further tears.

Before her grief had gathered force, the bell of the hall-door sounded once more long and loudly; and hard upon the sound the door of the room opened.
With a start of confusion she sprang to her feet, and turned to confront Norris, standing at a discreet distance, with an apologetic manner and downcast eyes.
"Mr.Bale-Corphew, ma'am," she murmured, as Enid looked at her.

"I told him you were not at home; but he said he would wait till whenever he could see you, it didn't matter how long." With a little cry of dismay and annoyance, Enid put her hands to her disordered hair.
"Oh, how stupid of you!" she cried, tremulously.

"You know I can't see him.