“I’m very sorry to have been in the way,” said Hilliard, smiling.

“Oh, not you.  It’s all right.  Someone I know.  He can be sensible enough when he likes, but sometimes he’s such a silly there’s no putting up with him.  Have you heard the new waltz—­the Ballroom Queen?”

She sat down and rattled over this exhilarating masterpiece.

“Thank you,” said Hilliard.  “You play very cleverly.”

“Oh, so can anybody—­that’s nothing.”

“Does Miss Madeley play at all?”

“No.  She’s always saying she wishes she could but I tell her, what does it matter?  She knows no end of things that I don’t, and I’d a good deal rather have that.”

“She reads a good deal, I suppose?”

“Oh, I should think she does, just!  And she can speak French.”

“Indeed?  How did she learn?”

“At the place where she was bookkeeper there was a young lady from Paris, and they shared lodgings, and Eve learnt it from her.  Then her friend went to Paris again, and Eve wanted very much to go with her, but she didn’t see how to manage it.  Eve,” she added, with a laugh, “is always wanting to do something that’s impossible.”

A week later, Hilliard again called at the music-shop, and talked for half an hour with Miss Ringrose, who had no fresh news from Eve.  His visits were repeated at intervals of a few days, and at length, towards the end of June, he learnt that Miss Madeley was about to return to London; she had obtained a new engagement, at the establishment in Holborn of which Patty had spoken.

“And will she come back to her old lodgings?” he inquired.

Patty shook her head.

“She’ll stay with me.  I wanted her to come here before, but she didn’t care about it.  Now she’s altered her mind, and I’m very glad.”

Hilliard hesitated in putting the next question.

“Do you still feel anxious about her?”

The girl met his eyes for an instant.

“No.  It’s all right now.”

“There’s one thing I should like you to tell me—­if you can.”

“About Miss Madeley?”

“I don’t think there can be any harm in your saying yes or no.  Is she engaged to be married?”

Patty replied with a certain eagerness.

“No!  Indeed she isn’t.  And she never has been.”

“Thank you.”  Hilliard gave a sigh of relief.  “I’m very glad to know that.”

“Of course you are,” Patty answered, with a laugh.

As usual, after one of her frank remarks, she turned away and struck chords on the piano.  Hilliard meditated the while, until his companion spoke again.

“You’ll see her before long, I dare say?”

“Perhaps.  I don’t know.”

“At all events, you’ll want to see her.”

“Most likely.”

“Will you promise me something?”

“If it’s in my power to keep the promise.”

“It’s only—­I should be so glad if you wouldn’t mention anything about my coming to see you that night in Gower Place.”