straight hold of it. Her hours, her confinement, the many conditions of service in the post-office, had—with a glance at his own postal resources and alternatives—formed, up to this stage, the subject of their talk. 'Well, here we are, and it may be right enough; but this isn't the least, you know, where I was going.'
'You were going home?'
'Yes, and I was already rather late. I was going to my supper.'
'You haven't had it?'
'No, indeed!'
'Then you haven't eaten———?'
He looked, of a sudden, so extravagantly concerned that she laughed out. 'All day? Yes, we do feed once. But that was long ago. So I must presently say good-bye.'
'Oh, deary me!' he exclaimed, with an intonation so droll and yet a touch so light and a distress so marked—a confession of helplessness for such a case, in short, so unrelieved—that she felt sure, on the spot, she had made the great difference plain. He looked at her with the kindest eyes and still without saying what she had
