with the boy became
first a daily event, and then the daily event. She had indulged herself
for once. It was not to last; but for once it was overpoweringly sweet
to be gazed at by eyes that did not remind her of a frog's, and to see
swiftly darting towards her a lithe straight figure crowned with a head
that (so she said) reminded her of Lord Byron's. But alas! alas! why
had nobody told her that the boy was like that before she went? Why did
her grandfather take no care of her? Why did Calder never show any
interest in what she did? Why, in fine, was everybody so cruel as to
let her do exactly what she liked, and thereby get into a scrape like
this?

One thing was certain. If that boy were in London, she must avoid him.
They must never meet. It was nonsense for Mr. Sigismund Taylor to talk
of making a. clean breast of it--of a dignified apology to Charlie,
coupled with a no less dignified intimation that their acquaintance
must be regarded as closed. Mr. Taylor knew nothing of the world. He
even wanted her to tell Calder! No. She was truly and properly
penitent, and she hoped that she received all he said in that line in a
right spirit; but when it came to a question of expediency, she would
rather have Mrs. Blunt's advice than that of a thousand Mr. Taylors. So
she wrote to Mrs. Blunt and asked herself to lunch, and Mrs. Blunt,
being an accomplished painstaking hostess, and having no reason to
suppose that her young friend desired a confidential interview, at once
cast about for some one whom Agatha would like to meet. She did not ask
Calder Wentworth--she was not so commonplace as that--but she invited
Victor Sutton, and, delighting in a happy flash of inspiration, she
added Mr. Vansittart Merceron. The families were connected in some way,
she knew, and Agatha certainly ought to know Mr. Merceron.

Accordingly, when Agatha arrived, she found Victor, and she had not
been there five minutes before the butler, throwing open the door,
announced "Mr. Merceron."

Uncle Van had reached that state of body when he took his time over
stairs, and between the announcement and his entrance there was time
for Agatha to exclaim, quite audibly, "Oh!"

"What's the matter, dear?" asked Mrs. Blunt; but Uncle Van's entrance
forbade a reply, and left Agatha blushing but relieved.

Was she never to hear the end of that awful story? It might be natural
that, her hereditary connection with the Mercerons being disclosed, Mr.
Vansittar