"No, we haven't met before," he answered, and took the hand she proffered.
"I have often heard of you," said Miss Winder. She was a pretty girl, fresh as a flower, and frank and ready in her manner. "Father is always talking of you. I daresay you've heard of me."
"Oh, yes," replied Didcott, a abruptly; "I've heard of you."
"I think dinner is ready," interposed Mr. Winder, hastily. He moved to the door, and the pair followed him.
"You're not quite what I expected," observed Miss Winder, frankly, as they made their way downstairs. "I thought you would be older."
"I am sorry."
"I am so glad you liked my book."
Didcott was taken aback.
"Who told you that?" he asked, endeavouring to impart an air of archness to the query.
"Father said so. I was so pleased." Something in Didcott's manner struck her, for she asked a little sharply, "You do like it, don't you?"