scrawled a few lines for her on a leaf of my pocket- book: tore it out, and, giving it to Mrs. Smith, who was wiping her dirty hand on her dirtier apron, asked if anyone had my room now?
"'Oh yes, sir, Miss 'Owlet 'as it now, sir! Another young lady, Miss Martin, sir, 'as the back room. Miss Rosy've changed, sir. She likes the front room best, sir—she does! It's more airy like.' (With a twist of the jaw, and an indescribable tone.)
'"Oh," I said.
'"Miss Martin's a friend of Miss 'Owlet's, sir. But I don't know anything about her 'istory—nothing about her 'istory, sir."
'"Oh," I said again. And then:
'"You will give her that when she comes in, Mrs. Smith?"
'"Yes, sir, I'll be sure I will, sir.'
'"Thank you," I said. "Good-evening."
' "Good-evening, sir. I'll be sure to give it her."
'The old she-devil!'
The next entry is five days later:
'Rosy, not seeing fit to write to me as I asked her (I don't quite know what I expected her to write), I went to No. 3 again yesterday. She had just gone out. I was a little angered (having a most ridiculous idea that she had done it on purpose): scrawled her another note, "Why hadn't she written to me? If she would only tell me some fixed hour, I would be happy to come and see her," etc.: gave it to Mrs. Smith, as servile as usual; and then went for a long walk.—Half round Regent's Park: up Primrose Hill once more, and then back to Dunraven Place. It was all strangely dim to me, this walk over the old land.
'After my afternoon's walk to-day, I found a letter from Rosy waiting me.
'"Dear Mr. Leicester,—I was very happy to see you had not forgotten me.
"I am very sorry that I was out when you called on me the two times. I hope you are quite well, and have enjoyed yourself in Paris.
"Minnie is quite well, and I am quite well.
"And I have not forgotten the Swallow Song.—Yours truly,—Rosy Howlet.
