"She would run away frightened," said Ethel, laughing. "Will you please to tell me what the time is?"
He took out his watch. It was past twelve o'clock; and Ethel had to go. Mr. North drew her hand within his arm, seemingly as a matter of course, remarking that he must pilot her down the cliff. Ethel's face was covered with blushes. She was too timid to withdraw her hand: but she thought what would become of her should Mr. or Mrs. Castlemaine meet them. Or even Madame! So they went on arm-in-arm.
"Should I make anything of this sketch," said Mr. North, touching his pocket that contained the book; "anything of a watercolour I mean, it shall be yours, if you accept it. A memento of this morning."
"Thank you," murmured Ethel, her lovely face all blushes again.
"You will think of me perhaps when you look at it--once in a way. I may be far away: divided from you by sea and land."
"Are you going so soon?" she stammered.
"I fear I shall have to go eventually. The--the business that is keeping me here does not advance at all; neither does it seem likely to."
"Is business keeping you here?"
"Yes."
"I had no idea of that. Of what nature?"