Harry would never do as she had done with herself! Not for all the wealth that woman ever inherited--so she told herself--would he link himself to one who had made herself vile and tainted among women! In this, I think, she did him no more than justice, though it maybe that in some other matters she rated his character too highly.

Of Florence Burton she had as yet heard nothing, though had she heard of her, it may well be that she would not on that account have desisted.

Such being her thoughts and her hopes, she had written to Harry, begging him to see this man who had followed her--she knew not why--from Italy; and had told the sister simply that she could not do as she was asked, because she was away from London, alone in a country house.
And quite alone she was sitting one morning, counting up her misery, feeling that the apples were, in truth, ashes, when a servant came to her, telling her that there was a gentleman in the hall desirous of seeing her.

The man had the visitor's card in his hand, but before she could read the name, the blood had mounted into her face as she told herself that it was Harry Clavering.

There was joy for a moment at her heart; but she must not show it--not as yet.