One evening after a hard morning\'s work on my book, and a particularly fatiguing afternoon spent in vainly trying to lift Hubbard out of a funereal mood, I thought I should make myself a present of a few minutes\' conversation with Miss Ottley. I argued that she would be sure to spend the evening out somewhere, so I knocked at her father\'s door a few minutes before eight o\'clock. A gloomy-looking footman opened the door. Yes, Miss Ottley was at home. He would give her my card. Would I wait? I would, though I wondered. I............