with a frank smile.

"Have you begun your work of canvassing?" he said, with a laugh.

"Not yet," she replied. "Indeed, I doubt whether I shall take any part
in this contest. I have been engaged in a far more feminine
occupation!"

"Shopping?" asked Paul.

She laughed in assent. "But I've finished now," she said. "I am just
returning to Howden Clough."

"Are you staying in Brunford long?"

"No, I leave to-morrow."

"May I walk back with you?" he asked, wondering at his own temerity.
They went together some little distance without Paul speaking a word.
He felt he had much to say to her, and yet, now that the opportunity
had come, he was speechless. He noticed, too, that the people in the
street were watching them, and doubtless many were commenting on the
fact that he, who had no reason to be friendly with Mr. Bolitho, should
be walking with his daughter. Once or twice he looked shyly towards
her, and could not help thinking how utterly different she was from the
girls of her own age who lived in Brunford. She seemed to have no
connection with the town at all. Everything there was smoky and grimy
and harsh. She seemed more like a country girl than a denizen of a
town or city. Sometimes, when he had watched people in the market
square selling violets, the incongruity had struck him. The violets
brought in fresh from the country seemed utterly out of place in the
grimy hands of these Northern people. As he looked at the young girl
by his side he could not help thinking of the violets.

"I want to apologise to you," he said at length. "I was rude to you
when I met you in the fields near Howden Clough, and I've been angry
with myself ever since. It is very good of you to forgive me. I don't
deserve it."

For the first time Mary Bolitho realised what she was doing. In a
moment of thoughtlessness she had yielded to his suggestion that he
should walk to Howden Clough with her, and she felt angry with herself.
Had anyone told her that morning that she would have allowed him to
walk by her side through the public street she would have laughed at
the idea. It is true she had been interested in him ever since she had
first seen him. There was something masterful in his presence. His
political campaign had been marked by incidents which appealed to her
imagination, and she felt she could never forget the look on his face
when he had flung out his defiance to her father on the day of the
election. She