quaintance
he was the one to turn his eyes away.

"I'm sorry too," he said quietly. "Shall we turn back?" he asked after a
moment's pause.

"No, I want to walk," answered Clare.

She turned from him, and began to walk on in silence. For some time
neither spoke. Johnstone was puzzled, surprised, and a little hurt, but
he attributed what she had said to his own roughness in telling her that
he liked her, though he could not see that he had done anything so very
terrible. He had spoken spontaneously, too, without the least thought of
producing an impression, or of beginning to make love to her. Perhaps he
owed her an apology. If she thought so, he did, and it could do no harm
to try.

"I'm very sorry, if I have offended you just now," he said gently. "I
didn't mean to."

"You didn't offend me," answered Clare. "It isn't rude to say that one
likes a person."

"Oh--I beg your pardon--I thought perhaps--"

He hesitated, surprised by her very unexpected answer. He could not
imagine what she wanted.

"Because I said that I didn't like you?" she asked.

"Well--yes."

"Then it was I who offended you," answered the young girl. "I didn't
mean to, either. Only, when you said that you liked me, I thought you
were in earnest, you know, and so I wanted to be quite honest, because I
thought it was fairer. You see, if I had let you think that I liked you,
you might have thought we were going to drift into being friends, and
that's impossible, you know--because I never did like you, and I never
shall. But that needn't prevent our walking together, and talking, and
all that. At least, I don't mean that it should. That's the reason why I
won't turn back just yet--"

"But how in the world can you enjoy walking and talking with a man you
don't like?" asked Johnstone, who was completely at sea, and began to
think that he must be dreaming.

"Well--you are awfully good company, you know, and I can't always be
sitting with my mother on the terrace, though we love each other
dearly."

"You are the most extraordinary person!" exclaimed Johnstone, in
genuine bewilderment. "And of course your mother dislikes me too,
doesn't she?"

"Not at all," answered Clare. "You asked me that before, and I told you
the truth. Since then, she likes you better and better. She is always
saying how nice you are."

"Then I had better always talk to her," suggested Brook, feeling for a
clue.

"Oh, I shouldn't like that at all!" cried the young gi