s without a single
occupant. Claire looked round, realised her isolation, drew an
involuntary sigh, and rose in her turn.

"It's getting late. I must be hurrying home. I go to the Marble Arch
and take a motor-'bus. Please don't let me take you out of your way!"

He looked at her straightly but did not reply, and they paced together
down the broad roadway, past the sunken beds of rhododendrons with the
fountain playing in the centre, towards the archway which seemed to both
so unnecessarily near! Claire thought of the six months which lay
behind, saw before her a vision of months ahead unenlightened by another
meeting, and felt suddenly tired and chill. Captain Fanshawe frowned
and bit at his lower lip.

"I am going away to-morrow. We shall be in camp. In August I am taking
part of my leave to run up to Scotland, but I can always come to town if
I'm needed, or if there's a special inducement. I came up for both the
Willoughbys' `At Homes.'"

"Did you?" Claire said feebly, and fell a-thinking. The inference was
too plain to be misunderstood. The "special inducement" in this
instance had been the hope of meeting herself. Actually it would appear
that he had travelled some distance to ensure this chance, but the
chance had been deliberately denied. Kind Mrs Willoughby would have
welcomed her with open arms; it was Janet who had laid the ban. Janet
was friendly, almost affectionate. As spring progressed she had
repeatedly called at Saint Cuthbert's after afternoon school and carried
Claire off for refreshing country drives. Quite evidently she enjoyed
Claire's society, quite evidently also she preferred to enjoy it when
other visitors were not present. Claire was not offended, for she knew
that there was no taint of snobbishness in this decision; she was just
sorry, and, in a curious fashion, remorseful into the bargain. She did
not argue out the point, but instinctively she felt that Janet, not
herself, was the one to be pitied!

They reached the end of the footpath: in another minute they would be in
the noise and bustle of Oxford Street. Erskine Fanshawe came to an
abrupt halt, faced Claire and cried impulsively--

"Miss Gifford!"

"Yes?"

Claire shrank instinctively. She knew that she was about to be asked a
question which it would be difficult to answer.

Erskine planted his stick on the ground, and stared straight into her
eyes.

"Why are you so determined to give me no chance of meeti