All the family were coming to London to live there, for some little time at least.
"I hope you will go and tell them something of me.

Something seen," he said pressingly.
By this miserable subterfuge, like a man about to part with his life, he hoped to make her remember him a little longer.
"Certainly," she said.

"I'll be glad to call when I get back.

But that 'when' may be a long time." He heard a light sigh.

A cruel jealous curiosity made him ask-- "Are you growing weary, Miss Moorsom ?" A silence fell on his low spoken question.
"Do you mean heart-weary ?" sounded Miss Moorsom's voice.