"Miss Liddell!" he exclaimed, a startled, pleased look animating his eyes. "I understood you were out of town. I hardly hoped to meet you again." Katherine flushed up, and then grew white. "I have been out of town ever since--" Since what?--that turning-point in her life when she confessed all to him? "And I have been _in_ town," rejoined Errington. "It is not nearly so bad as some people imagine. Where are you staying?" "Oh, I am always with Miss Payne, in Wilton Street." "I remember. But I am keeping you standing. May I come and see you?" "Oh no; I would rather not," cried Katherine, with an irresistible impulse which she regretted the next moment. "You are always frank," said Errington, with a kind smile, yet in a disappointed tone. "I will not intrude, then. How are your nephews, and Mrs. Ormonde? I seem to have lost sight of every one, for I have become a very busy man." "Yes, I know," she returned, her color going and coming, her heart beating so fast she could hardly speak. "I must seem so rude! But I have read some of your papers in _The Age_. It must, indeed, take time and study to produce such articles." "And patience on the part of a young lady to wade through them." "No; they always interest me, even when a little over my head. Though I do not want you to come and see me, I am always so glad to hear about you, to know you are well." "Then why avoid me?" "How can I help it?"--looking at him with dewy eyes and quivering lips. "Well, I must accept your decision. I wish--But I will not detain you." He opened the carriage door and handed her in. For an instant her eyes sought his with a wistful, deprecating look, then she said, "Tell him 'home,' please," and she drove off. The encounter unhinged her for the day. Why had he crossed her path, and why had she allowed herself to reject his friendly offer to come and see her? Yet it would have made her miserable to bear the quiet scrutiny of his eyes through a whole visit. He had evidently quite forgiven her, but that could not restore her self-respect or render her less keenly alive to the silent reproach of his presence. And yet it was pleasant to hear him speak, his voice was so clear, so well modulated, so intelligent. And how well he looked!--better and brighter than she had ever seen him. It was evident that he was not breaking his heart about Lady Alice. How could she have given him up? Though nothing was more natural or probable than that they should meet when both lived in the same town, huge as it is, it was an immense surprise to Katherine, who had somehow come to the conclusion that they were never to set eyes on each other again. This impression upset her. She was constantly on the outlook for Errington wherever she drove or walked, and the composure which she had been diligently, and with a sort of sad resignation to Errington's wishes, building up, was replaced by a feverish, restless anticipation of she knew not what.