As to Francis Ryan, he forgot that Lily Danforth was looking after him with glances full of the deepest reproach. He had never been thoroughly in love with Lily; he had only felt for her that spurious kind of love which grows out of proximity. But she, poor girl, had set all her hopes upon him, and was very miserable when she saw what Elsie had done. She began to think that she had made an enemy of Miss Kilner. "It was Mary's fault," she thought bitterly. "Mary decided that we should give her the cold shoulder. 'We don't know who she is,' she said. Absurd! It would have been better to have been civil." Elsie, too, had forgotten Lily. The hint which Arnold had given her about the old attachment between his cousin and Ryan had slipped out of her mind. She was intent on wearing a brave face before the world, and hiding all the outward and visible signs of heartache. Yet there was no need to hide a pain which no one suspected her of enduring. No one, save Mrs. Lennard, had discovered that Elsie had a secret, and the old lady could keep her own counsel. "I have scarcely had a word from you all day," said Francis, not caring to conceal his delight as he walked up the meadow by her side. "I did not know that my words were of any value," Elsie answered. The flush was still warm on her cheek, and the dangerous light still shone in her eyes. Under the shade of her black lace hat the face glowed like a rich flower. "Is that quite true, Miss Kilner?" asked Francis, looking down at her with undisguised admiration. "I think you must know that any word of yours--even the lightest--is of value to me." "I'm afraid I say a great many foolish words," she replied lightly. "And they are best forgotten. What a glorious day we are having! This is Jamie's first picnic, and he will look back on it in years to come as a joy for ever. Rushbrook is certainly a charming place." "Could you be content to live in Rushbrook?" Ryan suddenly asked. "Always? I don't know." "Try and see if you get tired of it, Miss Kilner." "I am not tired of it yet," she said hurriedly, half afraid that he would go too far. "It is a place to remember and dream of on a November day in London." "Do you realise that we are not very far from November?" Francis said. "We are only divided from that dreaded month by September and October. And they will go by like a dream; they always do. 'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.'" "I've been gathering them ever since I came here, Mr. Ryan. Don't talk of November now; I hate it." "I should not hate it," he murmured, "if we could spend it together." "Here is Mrs. Lennard looking for me," exclaimed Elsie hastily. "I have lost sight of her too long." She went quickly towards her old friend, who received her with questioning eyes. "You are getting too warm, my dear," Mrs. Lennard said. "Come and sit down in a cool spot. Mrs. Appleby has been wanting to chat with you; she knew your mother years ago."