's the worst luck I've had yet. But I'm going back
to the hotel myself."

Cynthia didn't see how she was to prevent him walking with her. She would
not have admitted to herself that she had enjoyed this encounter, since
she was trying so hard not to enjoy it. So they started together out of
the park. Bob, for a wonder, was silent awhile, glancing now and then at
her profile. He knew that he had a great deal to say, but he couldn't
decide exactly what it was to be. This is often the case with young men
in his state of mind: in fact, to be paradoxical again, he might hardly
be said at this time to have had a state of mind. He lacked both an
attitude and a policy.

"If you see Duncan before I do, let me know," he remarked finally.

Cynthia bit her lip. "Why should I?" she asked.

"Because we've only got five minutes more alone together, at best. If we
see him in time, we can go down a side street."

"I think it would be hard to get away from Mr. Duncan if we met him--even
if we wanted to," she said, laughing outright.

"You don't know how true that is," he replied, with feeling.

"That sounds as though you'd tried it before."

He paid no attention to this thrust.

"I shan't see you again till I get to Brampton," he said; "that will be a
whole week. And then," he ventured to look at her, "I shan't see you
until the Christmas holidays. You might be a little kind, Cynthia. You
know I've--I've always thought the world of you. I don't know how I'm
going to get through the three months without seeing you."

"You managed to get through a good many years," said Cynthia, looking at
the pavement.

"I know," he said; "I was sent away to school and college, and our lives
separated."

"Yes, our lives separated," she assented.

"And I didn't know you were going to be like--like this," he went on,
vaguely enough, but with feeling.

"Like what?"

"Like--well, I'd rather be with you and talk to you than any girl I ever
saw. I don't care who she is," Bob declared, "or how much she may have
traveled." He was running into deep water. "Why are you so cold,
Cynthia?" "Why can't you be as you used to be? You used to like me well
enough."

"And I like you now," answered Cynthia. They were very near the hotel by
this time.

"You talk as if you were ten years older than I," he said, smiling
plaintively.

She stopped and turned to him, smiling. They had reached the steps.

"I believe I am, Bob," she replied. "I haven't seen