To-night he would go to Town, to-morrow he would interview Miss Joan Meredyth.  He would offer her no explanations, because the secret was not his own, and nothing must happen now that might upset or tell against Marjorie’s happiness.

He would express regret for what had happened, ask her to try and realise that no indignity and no insult had ever been intended against her, and then he would offer her his hand, but certainly not his heart.  If she felt the sting of her poverty so, then perhaps the thought of his eight thousand a year would act as balm to her wounded feelings.

At this time Hugh Alston had a very poor opinion of Miss Meredyth.  He did not deny her loveliness.  He could not; no man in his senses and gifted with eyesight could.  But the placid prettiness of Marjorie appealed to him far more than the cold, disdainful beauty of the young woman he had called ungenerous, and who had in her turn called him a cad.

It was Mrs. Wenham herself who opened the hall door of the house in Bemrose Square to Mr. Hugh Alston at noon on the day following.

Though certainly not dressed in the height of fashion, and by no means an exquisite, Mr. Hugh Alston had that about him that suggested birth and large possessions.  Mrs. Wenham beamed on him, cheating herself for a moment into the belief that he had come to add one more to the select circle of persons she alluded to as her “paying guests.”

Her face fell a little when he asked for Miss Meredyth.

“Oh, Miss Meredyth has gone to work,” she said.

“To work?”

“Yes, she’s a clerk or something in the City.  The office is that of Philip Slotman and Company, Number sixteen, Gracebury.”

“You think that I could see her there?” asked Hugh, who had little knowledge of City offices and their routine and rules, so far as hirelings are concerned.

“I suppose you could; you are a friend of hers?”

He nodded.

“Well, I don’t know that it is usual for visitors to call on lady clerks.  If I might make a suggestion I’d say send in your card to Mr. Slotman, and ask his permission to see Miss Meredyth.”

“Thanks!” Hugh said.  “If that’s the right thing to do, I’ll do it.”

Half an hour later Mr. Slotman was examining Hugh’s card.

“Who is he?”

“A tall, well-dressed gentleman, sir; young.  Looks as if he’s up from the country, but he’s a gentleman all right,” the clerk said.

“Very good, I’ll see him.”

Slotman rose as Hugh came in.  He recognised the man of position and possessions, a man of the class that Slotman always cultivated.

“I wish to ask your permission to interview Miss Meredyth.  I understand that, in business hours, the permission of the employer should be asked first.”

“Delighted!” Slotman said.  “You are a friend of Miss Meredyth’s?” He looked keenly at Hugh, and the first spark of jealousy was ignited in his system.