act of
placing volumes on the shelves. She moved forward and he looked round.

That was not the look she desired. Surprise at first, surprise blent
with pleasure; but then a gravity which was all but disapproval.

Yet he gave his hand.

'Good-morning, Miss Trent!' The voice was scrupulously subdued, as
inflexionless as he could make it. 'I am still at my secret work, you
see. When I went away for lunch yesterday something prevented me from
returning, so I came down again this morning.'

'You have got them nearly all put up.'

She could not face him, but kept her eyes on the almost empty cases.

'Yes. But I expect some more this afternoon.'

He walked away from her, with books in his hands. Thyrza felt ashamed.
What must he think of her? It was almost rude to come in this
way--without shadow of excuse. Doubtless he was punishing her by this
cold manner. Yet he could not unsay what he had said yesterday; and his
recognition of her just outside the Hall last night had been so
friendly. She felt that her mode of addressing him had been too
unceremonious; the 'Sir' of their former intercourse seemed demanded
again. Yet to use it would be plain disregard of his request.

Must she speak another word and go? That would be very hard. Shame and
embarrassment notwithstanding, it was so sweet to be here; nay, the
shame itself was luxury.

He said:

'I am so sorry I haven't a chair to offer you. If I put the top on this
box? That is a very rude sort of seat, but--'

Then he wished her to remain a little? Or was it mere politeness, which
modesty should direct her to meet with similar refusal? It was so hard
that she did not know what was proper, how she was expected to behave.

In the meantime, the seat was improvised. He asked her with a smile if
she would take it.

'Thank you, Mr. Egremont. I'm afraid I mustn't stay. Or only a minute.'

He glanced at the inner door, leading to the house. Had some sound come
thence?

Thyrza seated herself. With one hand she held the edge of the box
nervously. Her eyes were bent downwards. Egremont again walked away
from her. On returning, he said, in the same almost expressionless tone:

'I hope you enjoyed the concert last night?'

This was what she had wished, that he would speak of the concert.

'I did, so very much,' she replied.

And, as she spoke, her face was lifted. He was regarding her, and did
not at once avert his eyes. For an appreciable space of time they
looked