he was so
dependent on the elder woman.

"No, she does not altogether control them, of course," Katherine
replied; "but I always have so much to do for her that I do not feel
justified in making any arrangements without first consulting her."

"But you must surely have some leisure," he continued. "Perhaps you
shop in the High Street, or walk in the Park or Kensington Gardens on
fine mornings. Might I not chance to find you in one of those places?"

"I fear not," she answered, shaking her head. "If it is fine I have my
work to do."

"And if it should be wet?" asked Browne, feeling his heart sink within
him as he realised that she was purposely placing obstacles in the way
of their meeting. "Surely you cannot paint when the days are as gloomy
as they have been lately."

"No," she answered; "that is impossible. But it gives me no more
leisure than before; for in that case I have letters to write for
Madame Bernstein, and she has an enormous amount of correspondence."

Though Browne wondered what that correspondence could be, he said
nothing to her on the subject, nor had he any desire to thrust his
presence upon the girl when he saw she was not anxious for it. It was
plain to him that there was something behind it all--some reason to
account for her pallor and her quietness that evening. What that
reason was, however, he could not for the life of him understand.

They had arrived at this point when the carriage reached the door.
Madame Bernstein and Foote accordingly approached them, and the
quartette walked together towards the entrance.

"I thank you many times for your kindness to-night," said Katherine,
looking shyly up at Browne.

"Please, don't thank me," he replied. "It is I who should thank you.
I hope you have enjoyed yourself."

"Very much indeed," she answered. "I could see _Lohengrin_ a hundred
times without growing in the least tired of it."

As she said this they reached the carriage. Browne placed the ladies
in it, and shook hands with them as he bade them good-night. He gave
the footman his instructions, and presently the carriage rolled away,
leaving the two young men standing on the pavement, looking after it.
It was a beautiful starlight night, with a touch of frost in the air.

"Are we going to take a cab, or shall we walk?" said Foote.

"Let us walk, that is if you don't mind," Browne replied. "I feel as
if I could enjoy a ten-mile tramp to-night after the heat of that
thea