Nicholas was a college living which had
hitherto been viewed as a trump card, it might be a long time going
the round of the senior fellows.
Julius had just been at poor Mrs. Fuller's, trying to help her to
put her complicated affairs in order, so as to be ready for a move
as soon as one daughter, who had the fever slightly, could be taken
away, and he was driving home again, when he overtook Mrs. Duncombe
and offered her a lift, for her step was weary. She was indeed
altered, pale, with cheek-bones showing, and all the lustre and
sparkle gone out of her, while her hat was as rigidly dowdy as Miss
Slater's.
She roused herself to ask feebly after the remaining patients.
"Cecil is really getting better at last," he said. "Her father
wants to take her to Portishead next week."
"And young Bowater?"
"No change. His strength seems to be going."
"I wouldn't pity him," sighed Bessie Duncombe; "he has only seen the
best end of life, and has laid it down for something worth! I'm
sure he and your brother are the enviable ones."
"Nay, Mrs.
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