ther."

"Shall we?" murmured the girl, poised on bent toes as if she were minded
to flee from him in a breath.

"Oh, we must," vowed Michael.

"But I mustn't dawdle," she protested.

"Of course not," he affirmed with almost an inflexion of puritanical
rigour.

"You're leaving your book, stupid," she laughed, as he rose to take his
place by her side.

"I wouldn't have minded, because all that's in that book is in you," he
declared. "I think I'll leave it behind for a lark."

She ran back lightly and opened it to see whether his name were on the
front page.

"Michael Fane," she murmured. "What does 'ex libris' mean?" Yet even as
she asked the question her concentration failed, and she seemed not to
hear his answer.

"You didn't really want to know, you funny girl," said Michael.

"Know what?" she echoed, blinking round at him over her shoulder as they
walked on.

"The meaning of 'ex libris.'"

"But I found out your name," she challenged. "And you don't know mine."

"What is it?" Michael dutifully asked.

"I don't think I'll tell you."

"Ah, do."

"Well, then, it's Lily--and I've got a sister called Doris."

"How old are you?"

"How old do you think?"

"Seventeen?" Michael hazarded.

She nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to claim kinship on the
score of their similar years, but discretion defeated honesty, and he
said aloofly, gazing up at the sky:

"I'm nineteen and a half."

She told him more as they mingled with the crowds in Kensington High
Street, that her mother was Mrs. Haden, who recited in public sometimes,
that her sister Doris wanted to go on the stage, and that they lived in
Trelawny Road.

"I know Trelawny Road," Michael interjected, and in the gathering crowds
she was perforce closer to him, so that he was fain to guide her gently
past the glittering shops, immensely conscious of the texture of her
dress. They emerged into wider, emptier pavements, and the wind came
chilly down from Camden Hill, so that she held her muff against her
cheek, framing its faint rose. Twilight drew them closer, and Michael
wishful of an even less frequented pavement suggested they should cross
the road by Holland Park. A moment she paused while a scarlet omnibus
clattered past, then she ran swiftly to where the trees overhung the
railings. It was exhilarating to follow her over the wooden road that
answered to his footsteps like castanets, and as he caught up with her
to fondle her bent arm.