"Florence would have given anything to go; she likes to get Rex to herself for a good talk. I wish he didn't hate _me_ so, for I'd like a good talk with him myself. I'm getting rather sick of his seeing everything through Florrie's eyes." And the chance had seemed so opportune that Imogen had seized it--in her eagerness to get the meeting over, to come to an explanation before her mother could complicate things by any interference--without realising the difference between _her_ position and Florence's. She was well punished in these few seconds for her thoughtlessness. Unmaidenly and bold were among the mildest epithets she applied to herself, while her imagination sought in vain for some pretext or excuse in which she could find shelter. "But I can't pretend I came by accident," she thought; "he knows me too well, even if I could be so deceitful." So it was in utter indecision as to how she meant to bear herself that she at last met Major Winchester. He was smiling; he looked well and cheerful. And he was feeling as he looked. He was relieved from anxiety about his sister, and there was a gleam of brightness in the clouds surrounding his engagement. And even though the smile was broken by a start, unperceived by Imogen, as he came near enough to recognise her, it soon appeared again. "I thought you were Florence, do you know?" were almost his first words. They acted as a cold shower-bath on Imogen; nothing could have so helped her to regain her self-possession. She stiffened at once. "I am very sorry I cannot turn myself into Florence," she said, though the tears were, all the same, not far from her eyes. "But I needn't keep you; I am going on a little farther." "I hope not," he said kindly; "as I am so lucky as to have met you, can't you turn and walk a bit of the way back with me?" ("It will be a splendid opportunity for following Robin's advice and telling her all about Eva," he suddenly thought.) "You know we were going to have a good talk the day I was called away." He walked on slowly as he spoke, and Imogen could scarcely avoid accompanying him. "By the bye," he added, "you got my note that morning?" Imogen's breath came fast and chokingly. "Ye-es," she said, and he saw that she was growing very pale, "I--I got it. That was why--I wanted to see you first alone." Poor child! even as she uttered the words she felt what she was doing. Where were all her hoped-for evasions? she was no diplomatist indeed. "Then you knew I was coming?" he exclaimed, thoughtlessly. But, almost in the same breath, his perfect though simple chivalry came to his aid. "I am so glad you came," he went on, "if I can be of any use. I have been anxious about you; I had wanted to warn you even more definitely about some of our friends at The Fells. Florence promised to do what she could, but you have not got to know her as I hoped. By the bye, did she tell you I was coming? I asked her not; but still--if _she_ told you--"