This time Kent literally lacked the courage to tell Cynthia what had occurred. He went out, and dropped on to the first bench that he came to, sick in his soul. What was the use now if Beaufort did bring him the money when they met? The girl could not be sent home without her luggage, and they would have to make a clean breast of the whole affair to her, and beg her to be tolerant with them. Cynthia had been very plucky; she had taken the disappointment of last night like a brick, and was at the moment full of hope for the result of the appointment at a quarter to two; but he felt that this unexpected blow would surely crush her. It was the death-stroke to their scheme and entailed even more mortification than they had feared originally. He was at the foot of the Champs Elysées, and he sat staring with wide eyes at the passers-by--at the bonnes, big of bosom, with the broad, bright ribbons depending from their caps; at the children with their hoops, and the women in knicker-bockers, flashing through the sunshine on their bicycles. Paris looked so light-hearted that woe seemed incongruous in it. Now, it happened, about half an hour subsequent to his leaving the house, that Cynthia decided to go with her baby and the nurse for a walk. Halfway down the stairs it was perceived that something had been forgotten, and she continued the descent alone. To her dismay, she saw the gaunt figure of madame Garin standing at the office door, and as she came timorously down the last flight, the proprietress stood with folded arms, watching her. Perhaps her nervousness was very evident; perhaps the other had been sorrier for her than she had shown; but as the girl reached the hall the grim old woman moved towards her, and, with a gesture that said as plainly as words, "Oh, you poor little soul!" took her face between her hands, and kissed her on the forehead. "Listen," she said; "that's all right about the box of your servant--be easy!" Cynthia murmured a response to her kindness without realising what was meant. Presently Kent became aware that, among the stream of nurses and infants flowing up from the place de la Concorde, were his own nurse and infant, and that Cynthia accompanied them. She recognised him before they reached the bench, and coming over to him with surprise, sat down. And then each spoke of what the other did not know. "What a half-hour you have had!" she cried when she understood. And he exclaimed: "But the relief! Heaven be praised you came this way!"