nd shawls, and all was prepared for their
departure;--but there was some difficulty about the fly. The Fulham
fly which had brought them, and which always took them everywhere,
had hitherto omitted to return for them. It was ordered for half-past
ten, and now it was eleven. "Are you sure he was told?" said Clary.
Patience had told him herself,--twice. "Then he must be tipsy again,"
said Clary. Mrs. Brownlow bade them to sit still and wait; but when
the fly did not arrive by half-past eleven, it was necessary that
something should be done. There were omnibuses on the road, but they
might probably be full. "It is only two miles,--let us walk," said
Clary; and so it was decided.

Ralph insisted on walking with them till he should meet an omnibus or
a cab to take him back to London. Patience did her best to save him
from such labour, protesting that they would want no such escort. But
he would not be gainsayed, and would go with them at least a part
of the way. Of course he did not leave them till they had reached
the gate of Popham Villa. But when they were starting there arose a
difficulty as to the order in which they would marshal themselves;--a
difficulty as to which not a word could be spoken, but which was not
the less a difficulty. Clarissa hung back. Ralph had spoken hardly a
word to her all the evening. It had better continue so. She was sure
that he could not care for her. But she thought that she would be
better contented that he should walk with Patience than with Mary
Bonner. But Mary took the matter into her own hands, and started off
boldly with Patience. Patience hardly approved, but there would be
nothing so bad as seeming to disapprove. Clary's heart was in her
mouth as she found her arm within his. He had contrived that it
should be so, and she could not refuse. Her mind was changed again
now, and once more she wished that she could let him know that the
crime was forgiven.

"I am so glad to have a word with you at last," he said. "How do you
get on with the new cousin?"

"Very well;--and how have you got on with her?"

"You must ask her that. She is very beautiful,--what I call
wonderfully beautiful."

"Indeed she is," said Clary, withdrawing almost altogether the weight
of her hand from his arm.

"And clever, too,--very clever; but--"

"But what?" asked Clary, and the softest, gentlest half-ounce of
pressure was restored.

"Well;--nothing. I like her uncommonly;--but is she not
quite,--quit