“Not like it?” He pressed his cheek to it. “Not all that lovely soft stuff that I always wanted to touch?—and mightn’t—not even that time after it came loose in the water—” “Looking _horrid_!” —“and clung all down you! D’you know what I shall do to it, presently?” I didn’t speak; I shut my eyes against his shoulder, and sighed.... And I had once thought I was not the “falling-in-love-type” of girl! I had once called him “that frozen ogre!” “I shall twist this hair of yours into a great rope of black silk,” he said, “and haul you off by it to that cave! Only question is, how soon? Nancy! How soon?” “A cave?” I said, half hearing, with my mouth against the cloth of his sleeve, “what d’you mean?” “Why, the sort of cave with a rose-garden to it, and perhaps a little white wicket-gate at the top of the stairs—don’t you remember?” * * * * * But we’d certainly forgotten the author of that long-ago _contretemps_ at the breakfast-table of The Lawn, the elderly _enfant terrible_ of that age-old week-end! Our heads were close together over the date-ticket that the head of the firm had grabbed from his desk to reckon up “how soon it could possibly be,” my finger with the ring on it was caught between his lips, when the briefest of taps at the door was followed by the most sudden of entrances—by Uncle Albert Waters. “Ah!” he began, “what’s to be done now?” His rosy, John Bull face was unrecognizably worried, but it suddenly lighted up. “What, the little girl too?” I had sprung away—I hope!—before he could have noticed that there, in that most official-looking of offices, I had been sitting on his nephew’s knee; but I was still so fluttered that I could think of nothing to do but offer the old gentleman my cheek! At all events, _he_ was absurdly pleased. “_Nancy_, my dear!... But what brought _you_ back to London?” “Furnishing,” said Billy, without a quiver. “Glad to hear it, my boy! First bit of good news to-day,” said Mr. Waters, turning grave again. “I say, Billy! About this——” “I’m going,” I said quickly, picking my hat up from the side-table where it had been tossed down as upon a gorse-bush. “I only meant to stay a minute.” “_Nancy_—I say!” came resentfully from the desk. “I’ll be in the waiting-room, then,” I promised. “Or, if I may, I’ll go and look up Miss Robinson and the girls while you talk over your business.” I don’t know why, exactly. Only I felt I must see those three girls again with this new look on my face. They might not know the difference! Still—I walked to the door. “Sensible little woman, this of yours, William,” his uncle trumpeted approvingly, holding it open for me. “Knows there’s a time for everything.... All to yourself for good, presently; _that’s_ been official for months now. Don’t you glower at me, lad, I saw you——”