And yet, in the teeth of all this, and under the eyes of all Queen’s Square, he must do his errand. And sheepish within, brazen without, he advanced and stood beside her. She heard his step, and, unsuspicious as the youngest of her flock, looked up to see who came—looked, and saw him standing within a yard of her, with the sunshine falling through the leaves on his wavy, fair hair. For the twentieth part of a second he fancied a glint of glad surprise in her eyes. Then, if anything could have punished him, it was the sight of her confusion; it was the blush of distress which covered her face as she rose to her feet.
Oh, cruel! He had pursued her, when to pursue was an insult! He had followed her when he should have known that in her position a breath of scandal was ruin! And oh, the round eyes of the round-faced child beside her!
“I must apologise,” he murmured humbly, “but I am not trespassing upon you without a cause. I—I think that this is yours.” And rather lamely, for the distress in her face troubled him, he held out the parcel.
She put her hand behind her, and as stiffly as Miss Sibson—of the Queen’s Square Academy for Young Ladies of the Genteel and Professional Classes—could have desired. “I do not understand, sir,” she said. She was pale and red by turns, as the round eyes saw.
“You left this in the coach.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You left this in the coach,” he repeated, turning very red himself. Was it possible that she meant to repudiate her own property because he brought it? “It is yours, is it not?”
“No.”
“It is not!” in incredulous astonishment.
“No.”