‘Come in.  Of course you know I am glad to see you,’ he said hurriedly; and Gladys could not help rather enjoying his evident confusion.  If he felt nervous and awkward in her presence, it was no more than he deserved to feel, since she was so entirely unchanged.

‘I am glad you have the grace to be civil, at least,’ she said, with a bewildering smile, which vanished, however, when she seated herself on the battered old office-stool; all her anxiety and troubled concern made her face grave to sadness as she put the question—­

‘Do you know that your sister is in Glasgow?’

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A TROUBLED HEART.

Walter did not know.  His expression of surprise, tinged with alarm and a touch of shame, answered her before he spoke.

‘How do you know that?’ he asked.

’I saw her last night in Berkeley Street, just outside the Crown Halls, where we were at a concert,’ said Gladys.  ’Is it possible you have never seen her?’

’No; and I don’t believe it was her you saw.  You must have made a mistake,’ replied Walter quickly.

’It was no mistake, because she looked into our carriage, and I saw her quite plainly.  Besides, do you think that any one who has seen Liz once would ever forget her face?  I have never seen one like it.’

‘I don’t know anything about it, and I care less,’ Walter said with unpromising hardness.

Gladys did not know that the simple announcement she had brought to him in all faith, believing even that he might be in a sense relieved and glad to hear it, tortured him to the very soul.  He felt so bitter against Gladys at the moment that he could have ordered her away.  Her dainty presence, her air of ladyhood, her beautiful ways, almost maddened him; but Gladys was quite unconscious of it.

‘Have you not been at your father’s house lately, then?’ she asked.  ’Of course she must be there.  How glad they will be to have her safely at home again!  Do you think she would be glad to see me if I went to-day?’

’No, she wouldn’t, even if she were there, which I know is not the case.  I was there myself yesterday, and they had never heard anything about her.  I wish to heaven you would leave us alone, and let us sink into the mire we are made for!  We don’t want such fine ladies as you coming patronising us, and trying to make pious examples of us.  We are quite happy—­oh, quite happy—­as we are.’

He spoke with an awful bitterness, with a passion which made him terrible to look upon, but Gladys only shrank a little, only a little, under this angry torrent.  Her vision was clearer than a year ago.  She read the old friend now with unerring skill, and looked at him steadily with gentle, sorrowful eyes.

’You are very angry, Walter, and you think it is with me, but I know better, and you cannot prevent me trying to find out what has become of poor Lizzie.  I loved her, and love has certain rights, even you will admit that.’