She left her bank-note in its envelope, together with a scribbled explanation, in a conspicuous place on the little dressing-table. It was conceivable that he would prefer that Gerald should know nothing of it, so that she would not leave it in the sitting-room. She made her way downstairs, followed by Mrs. Walters. At the house-door she turned to say good-bye. "I hope I have not troubled you," she said. "It is good of you to let me see the rooms: one is so interested, you know." "Quite so, Miss," the landlady answered, "and I hope you are pleased, Miss." "I think they look fairly comfortable," Hazel returned, somewhat cautiously, "and beautifully clean. I know," she added, anxious to be just, "I know that you do not ask a very heavy rent, so the boys must not expect anything grand." Again bidding her good-bye, Hazel tripped down the steps, and seated herself in the carriage, which at that moment had pulled up, after a turn or two up and down the road. "Well," her uncle said, "I am afraid, if you are to catch the train your mother mentioned, it is about time to be making our way to the station. Do you wish to return first, to fetch your papers and what not?" "Oh, mother’s grapes," exclaimed Hazel. "Yes, please, if there is time." The order home was given, and soon, armed with the same provision for her entertainment upon the return journey, Hazel, still accompanied by her uncle, was driven to the station. "Come and see me again soon, my dear," the old man said. "And you are quite sure," he added, lowering his voice, that the attendant footman might not overhear his words, "you are quite sure that you won’t accept pocket-money for yourself?" for he had been pressing notes upon the girl for her own use. "Quite sure, thank you, uncle dear. You must not mind. You see, I don’t actually _need_ it—Teddie did," and she kissed the wrinkled cheek that was presented to her with real warmth. "Good-bye." And once again the old man was left alone. It was in the loneliness of the hours that followed that Percival Desborough made up his mind to go to Hazelhurst. Alighting from the train, Hazel’s eyes encountered Paul Charteris. She looked up and smiled in frank affection, at once setting his anxiety at rest respecting his reception: for he had not asked permission to take the little lady home. Intimating by word and gesture that the guard was welcome to the very considerable amount of literature within the carriage, Hazel followed her charioteer out of the station, and was soon once more seated beside him in the trap. But alas for his new-found peace and elation of spirit, the girl’s manner quickly returned to the determined evasion of eye, of question, of himself generally; and again Paul was profoundly troubled. Almost in silence they reached home.