There was another pause. The girl got up and, walking to the window, gazed out upon the street. “There is a nice air in the streets now,” she said at length, without turning round. Fraser started. Politeness and inclination fought with conscience. The allies won, but inclination got none of the credit. “Would you care to go for a walk?” he asked. Miss Tyrell turned and regarded him with an unmistakable air of surprise. “No, thank you,” she said, in a manner which indicated reproof. Fraser shifted restlessly. “I thought that was what you meant,” he said, indignantly. “You jump at conclusions, as I said before,” remarked Miss Tyrell. “It wouldn’t be right.” “I don’t see any harm in it,” said Fraser, stoutly; “we’ve been before, and Flower knows of it.” The girl shook her head. “No,” she said, firmly. To her surprise, that ended the matter. The rattle of traffic and the hum of voices came in at the open window; the room seemed unwontedly quiet by contrast. Miss Tyrell sat reaping the empty reward of virtue, and bestowing occasional glances on the fine specimen of marine obtuseness in the armchair. “I hope that I am not keeping _you_ from a walk,” she observed, at length. “No,” said Fraser. He rose in confusion, wondering whether this was a hint for him to go, and after a supreme mental effort decided that it was, and murmured something about getting back to the ship. Poppy shook hands with him patiently. It is always a sad thing to see a fine young man lacking in intelligence. Some of her pity perhaps showed in her eyes. “Are you going?” she asked, with a shade of surprise in her voice. Fraser gazed at her in perplexity. “I suppose so,” he murmured. “Which means that you want a walk, but don’t like leaving me here alone, I suppose,” said Miss Tyrell, resignedly. “Very well, I will come.” She left him for a moment in search of her hat, and then, putting aside the gloves she was about to don in favour of those he had endeavoured to secrete, led the way downstairs. Her composure was sufficient for two, which was just the quantity required at that moment. CHAPTER XXI. The summer passed quickly. All too quickly for Captain Barber, who said that it was the shortest he ever remembered. But, then, his memory, although greatly improved, was still none of the best, many things which Mrs. Church fondly and frequently referred to having escaped it altogether. He even forgot that he was to be married in October, and in these circumstances Mrs. Gibson, Miss Banks, and Mrs. Church put their banns up. This acted as a specific, and Captain Barber, putting the best face he could on the matter, went and interviewed the verger on his own behalf.