ville. Yes, that was it; he would chaff
Woodville about it....

Seeing a hansom, he jumped into it and went to the Club. As he drove
there he remembered vaguely several little things that he had noticed
subconsciously before, and he began to think that probably Woodville and
Sylvia were in love with each other. What more natural! In that case one
wouldn't talk about it. It might annoy them. There was nothing on earth
Lord Chetwode disliked so much as the idea of anything that would annoy
any one.

So he never did tell Woodville nor anybody else. When it did not slip
his memory, his almost morbid dread of anything disagreeable prevented
his mentioning it, and he left London without having spoken of the
incident. Probably it was of no importance after all.

At this time Woodville was really miserable. Their position was more
difficult than ever. Of course he had kept his word to her, and written
to Ridokanaki that he could not accept the offer. They remained
privately engaged, and waiting; Savile their only confidant. He had got
rid of the little studio, and was half sorry and half relieved not to be
able to go there as a retreat. It had some painful but also some
exquisite associations. Since he had made the sacrifice of Athens for
Sylvia--for it was a sacrifice--he was, of course, more in love with her
than before. That quarter of an hour in Kensington Gardens this morning
was the only clandestine appointment they had ever made in the course of
five years.

How often he remembered the day he had first arrived at the Croftons!
Sylvia was fifteen then, and her governess, Miss Dawe, took the place,
as far as could be, of her dead mother, chaperoning Felicity and
teaching Sylvia. He remembered that it was bitterly cold and snowing
hard. As he passed the schoolroom, of which the door was open, to his
own room, escorted by the servant, he heard what sounded like a quarrel
going on. A poor old man with a battered accordion was making a pathetic
noise on the cold pavement.

"You shall _not_ do it, Sylvia!" Miss Dawe was speaking authoritatively.
"Your father did not give you five pounds to throw away. It isn't the
right thing for young ladies to run down to the hall." And Felicity's
voice said imperiously, he knew it afterwards, "Quick; ring the bell,
and tell Price to give him the money."

While the electric bell was being rung he distinctly heard the window
flung wide open, and a soft thud on the pavement. Sylvia had t