During all this time, except on those two occasions when he had met the children, Charles Wargrave had not been able to secure any personal communication with Mademoiselle. She accompanied her charges with the greatest calm--a calm which was not at all complimentary to the young man who thus made himself her companion whether she would or not. She showed no signs whatever of embarrassment, or of supposing that his attentions might be misconstrued. If he had been eighty she could not have been more at her ease. And Edith and Dorothy had seized upon him on both sides, each clinging to an arm, which was not at all what he intended. He was so entirely discomfited, indeed, by the too much _empressement_ of the little girls and the too little of Mademoiselle, that after these two accidental encounters he gave up attempting anything of the sort. However domestic he might be, it did not suit him to expound the Kensington Museum to Edith and Dorothy, each clinging to an arm. And was she made of stone, that woman? Was she made of vulcanite or some such impervious material, white to the sight but tough and unyielding to the touch? He was so much disgusted after that second expedition that he turned violently round upon himself and declared that he would have nothing more to say to Mademoiselle. What was Mademoiselle that she should exact such service? To be sure, it could not be said that she exacted any service; she smiled and ignored it with a perfect composure which was still more aggravating. And why should a man take all that trouble for a woman who took no notice, who never seemed to see anything, neither his civilities nor his impatience? He said to himself that it was in every way a mistake, that to pursue a person of that class was the height of folly, that to marry her would be madness itself. To marry a governess! a woman almost middle-aged, as Mrs Leicester Wargrave assured him so often--a foreigner--a nobody--above all, one who showed no appreciation of his attentions, and probably would not marry him! Oh, it was too much. He would break off at once and think of such folly no more. This decision Charles Wargrave emphasised by going out of town for a whole week. But when he returned the first place he went to was the Square, just to see whether she was as composed as ever, he said to himself. As it happened it was in the afternoon, after the hour of luncheon and before that of tea, that he presented himself at Leicester Wargrave's house, and Mrs Wargrave was out. He paused a moment to think what he was to do; then, hearing the voices of the children, asked if they were in the garden. "Yes, sir, with Mademoiselle," replied the servant. "Then," said Charles, "I'll go out there, and you can let me know when your mistress comes in."