"Oh yes, you will, you're not busy." "No, I have an engagement." Darwen raised his eyebrows and shot a quick glance at him. He wondered whether Carstairs was trying his prentice hand at lying. "In that case of course--" he said, and they walked back to the works in silence. CHAPTER XV That evening Carstairs hung round the post office from half-past seven to half-past eight, he was thinking of going away when Mrs Darwen's new maid turned the corner at the end of the street, he waited under the big arc light outside the main entrance. As she came into the light, he stepped up and raised his hat. "Good evening, Miss Darkey," the name almost stuck in his throat. "Good evening, Mr Carstairs," she gave him a polite bow. "How is your mother?" he asked. "Better, thank you." She hardly seemed inclined to stop. "What was the matter?" he asked. He was rather at his wits' end for something to say to detain her. "I don't know," she answered. She looked at him, he thought, with a little amusement. "We gipsies never give names to our complaints. It may have been appendicitis, or fever, or a cold. Mother took herb tea, and she's better now." "I'm glad of that," he said and stuck. She passed on into the post office. "Well, I'm damned," he said to himself. He was beginning to lose his temper. He watched her purchase some stamps at the counter--her profile seemed even better than her full face; the contemplation of her beauty cast a spell over him, for once in his life Carstairs felt rather hopeless. She did not look like a servant in her best clothes, but like a lady in poor circumstances. He noticed the obsequious civilities of the clerk at the counter, and thought what a pitiful ass the fellow was. He stepped up to her again as she came out, a little blaze of anger in his eyes. "Look here! What's the matter?" he asked. "Nothing," she answered, gazing at him in cold surprise. "Well, why didn't you speak to me the other evening?" He was rather flabbergasted, he could not realize that this was the meek little girl he had known in Scotland. She raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. "It's not usual for servants to speak to guests, unless they are spoken to," she said. "No, er--may I walk home with you?" As he looked into her eyes he thought for a moment, he saw some resemblance to Darwen. She hesitated a second, and he, watching closely, caught the light of a little look that made him feel very happy. "Yes, if you like," she said, and just for a moment the long black lashes swept the cheek as he had seen them once before. With much alacrity he stepped on to the off side, and they proceeded down the street. "You've changed wonderfully since I saw you last," he said. "Have I?" she asked.