Then came a terrible silence. Paul was too generous to take advantage of the slip, and Hazel, feeling an irrepressible desire to know the worst that his face might be expressing, glanced up hastily as she turned to view, with absorbing interest, the farther hedge. He was smiling quietly to himself and looking very satisfied over something. So much her brief look told her, and she felt her resentment again rising. "One can like driving, and yet have reasons for wishing to walk," she said severely, again taking up her weapon, but this time in some trepidation. "Of course," he answered lightly. "One might object to the companionship of one’s driver." No response from Hazel. "Is that it, Hazel?" he asked presently. Still no reply. "I have feared for some little time," he resumed, "that you have been avoiding my society. I cannot tell you how the suspicion has grieved me. I have spent much time in wondering wherein I have erred. Won’t you tell me, Hazel, and set me right?" Sympathetic Hazel was much distressed. "You have done nothing," she said earnestly, "nothing. Please do not think so again." "But something has happened," he persisted, "and I think I have a right to know what, as it concerns myself so deeply. Don’t you admit my right?" "It does not concern you," she repeated, and hesitated. "One can offend oneself sometimes," she added desperately, enigmatically. "I offended myself a little while ago. You are not in the least to blame. Oh, please, do not talk of it any more." A silence fell between them. On reaching the station Paul secured a compartment for Hazel’s exclusive use. This was easily done, as the early morning city train, with its many passengers, was gone some time since, and there were few to go by this. A handsome tip to the guard settled the matter: Hazel was to be locked in. Having seen her seated, he proceeded to furnish her with all sorts of illustrated papers and a dainty basket of grapes from a fruit-shop outside the station. Then, everything completed to his satisfaction, he leaned upon the door of the carriage as she sat within, amidst a very sea of papers. "Don’t look at that yet," he pleaded, in remonstrance, as she took up a magazine. "It is only two minutes till time is up." Hazel obediently laid down the journal. It would be unkind to go on puzzling him, now that she knew he had noticed her avoidance of him, and was aware that something had troubled her. It would be particularly ungracious too, after all this recent kindness. Besides, it was easier here: he was farther away, and she breathed more freely. Surely she could look at him once or twice, and talk in a natural manner? She did look at him. He was regarding herself earnestly. "Hazel," he said humbly, "am I forgiven for not asking your permission, direct, for driving you?" "Yes," Hazel said with dignity, rearranging the fruit in the basket.