‘Why, it _is_--it really _is_! How glad I am to see you! But what on earth are you doing here?’ ‘Amusing myself--_comme vous voyez_; and you?’ ‘Oh, doing the same.’ They had shaken hands, and were sauntering on together. ‘Anything wrong with your health?’ Fanny asked, scrutinising the pale thin face, with its touch of warmth on the cheeks. ‘Oh, I’ve had a bit of a cold; nothing to speak of. You been out of sorts?’ ‘A little run down. Over-study, they say.’ Horace looked his surprise. ‘Why, I didn’t know you went in for that kind of thing.’ ‘Didn’t you? I’ve been studying abroad for a long time. Thinking of taking a place as French teacher in some tip-top high school.’ ‘I am very glad to hear it. Capital idea. Sure I hope you’ll be successful.’ ‘Thanks awf’ly. Tell me something about yourself. Why, it’s two years since we saw each other, isn’t it? Are you married yet?’ Horace smiled and coloured. ‘No, no--not yet. I’m in business with Luckworth Crewe,--sort of sleeping partner just now.’ ‘Are you really? And how’s your sister?’ The young man bent his brows uncomfortably. ‘Don’t you know anything about her?’ he asked. ‘I’ve heard she’s married.’ ‘Yes, a man called Tarrant. Very clever fellow; he writes for the papers.--I say, Miss. French, I generally have a glass of wine and a biscuit, at the confectioner’s, about this time. Will you give me the pleasure of your company?’ ‘_Charmee_, _Monsieur_! I generally go in for the same kind of thing.’ So they repaired to the cake-shop, and sat talking for half-an-hour of trifles which made them laugh. ‘And you really didn’t know me?’ said Fanny, when her glass of wine was finished. ‘Have I changed so much?’ ‘A good deal. Not for the worse, oh dear no!’ The girl giggled. ‘Well, I don’t mind saying that _you_ have changed a good deal for the better.’ Horace flushed at the compliment. ‘I’m much older,’ he answered with a sigh, as though the years of a sexagenarian weighed upon him. ‘That’s just what I like in you. You’re so much more of a man. Don’t be offended.’ They went forth again into the sunshine. At the door both coughed, and both pretended that it wasn’t a cough at all, but a voluntary little hem. CHAPTER 2 Mrs. Damerel was younger than ever. She had spent October abroad, with her friends Mrs. and Miss. Chittle, and the greater part of November at Brighton, with other friends. Back in town she established herself at one of the various boarding-houses honoured by her patronage, and prepared to enjoy the social life of winter. Half a year ago an unwonted depression had troubled her serene existence. At the close of the London season she seemed weary and spiritless, very unlike herself; having no invitation for the next two months, she withdrew to Whitsand, and there spent some cheerless weeks.