“Ah, well, I must be off.  It is dark, it is late, and it rains, and alas

  “No Po-o-ortsmouth Poll is a-waiting for me.”

Miriam was silent.  She pitied him profoundly, and thought it was nothing but pity.

“Good-bye, Miss Tacchi.”

He took her hand in his, held it a little longer than was necessary for an ordinary farewell, then raised it to his lips and kissed it.  She did not at once release him.  “Good-bye,” she said.  He had moved a little farther from her, and was descending the step, but the hands still held.  One more “good-bye,” and they slowly parted their grasp, as things part under a strain which are not in simple contact, but intermingle their fibres.

Mr. Montgomery in a quarter of an hour was at home, and in another quarter of an hour was asleep.  Miriam, on the contrary, lay awake till daylight, with her brain on fire, and when she woke it was nine o’clock.  Coming downstairs as soon as she was dressed, she was greatly surprised to find that Andrew was still in bed.  She was much alarmed, went to his room, and roused him.  He complained of headache and sickness, and wished to remain at home for the day, but Miriam would not listen to it—­rather unwisely, for it would have been better if he had not appeared before Mr. Dabb that morning.  Mr. Dabb had in fact been much provoked of late by small irregularities in Andrew’s attendance, and had at last made up his mind that on the next occasion he would tell him, notwithstanding their relationship, that his services were no longer required.

“Nice time to show yourself, Mr. Andrew,” observed Mr. Dabb, pulling out his watch.

“I was not well.”

“I’ve got a word or two to say to you.  Perhaps we’d better go into the parlour.”

Thither Mr. Dabb went, and Andrew followed him.

“Look you here, Mr. Andrew, I know perfectly well what is the matter with you.  You don’t think that I haven’t got a nose, do you?  You are my nephew, but just for that very reason you shan’t be with me.  I’m not agoing to have it said that I’ve got a relative in my business who drinks.  I won’t turn you out into the street, as I might have done, with nothing but what was due to you.  There’s two months’ pay, and now we’re quits.  You take my advice, and let this be a lesson to you, or you’ll go from bad to worse.”

Mr. Dabb produced the money, and handed it to Andrew.  He was confounded, and almost dumb with terror.  At last he found words, and implored his uncle to forgive him.

“Forgive you?  Yes, I forgive you, if that will do you any good; but business is business, and what I’ve settled to do that I do.  Now, then, you’d better go; I can’t stand here any longer.  I don’t bear any ill-will to you, but it’s of no use your talking.”

He opened the door, and in another minute Andrew was in the street.