It was. The sun shone as it sometimes will shine at the beginning of the gloomiest month. The air was soft and humid, and though the roads were shocking the wide pavement of Hamchester promenade was clean. Lallie looked down anxiously at her shapely strong brown boots. No, they had not suffered; they were smart and trim, and did no shame to the well-hung short skirt above them. She squared her shoulders, held her head very high, and strolled along serene in the assurance that in all essentials she presented a creditable appearance. So evidently thought a young man coming up the promenade towards her.
He was a man of middle height, slight and fair, and wearing pince-nez; clean-shaven, with full prominent blue eyes, a large head, pinkish complexion, and an amiable, if weak, mouth. Admiring friends told him that he greatly resembled the poet Shelley, and he prided himself upon the likeness while in no way dressing to the part. He had an extremely long neck, which rather emphasised the fact that his shoulders were narrow and sloping. He wore a stock and was generally sporting in his attire, and his face and figure seemed curiously at variance with his clothes. In academic cap and gown his personality would have been congruous and even dignified, but clad as he was in a well-made tweed suit with riding-coat, and wearing upon his head a straight brimmed bowler, in spite of the fact that there was nothing exaggerated or outré in his garments he yet made upon the beholder a curious impression of artificiality, and seeing him for the first time one's first thought was, "Why does he dress like that?"
Immediately he caught sight of Lallie he hurried forward with outstretched hand and joy writ large upon his countenance.
"You, Miss Clonmell! What unspeakably good luck! I have been hoping to meet you for the last three days, and never caught a glimpse of you."
"How do you do, Mr. Ballinger?" Lallie said demurely, "and what brings you to these parts? Are you over for the day, or what?"
"I've come here for a bit. I'm going to hunt here for a month or two--all the season if I like it. I suppose you're coming out to-morrow?"
"Why aren't you hunting in your own country?" Lallie asked him reproachfully. "What has Fareham done that you should desert it? Do you suppose the hunting here is better?"
"I believe it's quite decent here, really; and I know a good many people, and I thought I'd like a bit of a change--and there are other reasons. Of course you're coming out with us to-morrow?"
Lallie shook her head.
"No, I'm not hunting--yet."