"I was scarcely conceited enough to think so, and--and of course I feel the compliment. However, we _have_ met, you see." "Yes; and so long as that has come about, no matter how late you are; for you see I still hold to my original opinion. However late or early, I must be doubly thankful for the chances of meeting you now. For the season's at an end, and I suppose you will be off with the rest?" "I suppose so; though nothing is settled, I believe." "And where do you go?" "Papa talked of Scarborough some time ago. He has not said any thing about it lately; and as I am wholly indifferent on the subject, I'm very good to him, and let him have his own way." "Are you similarly complaisant to Mr. Guyon in all things?" There must have been something special in the tone of his voice; for she looked up quickly with a slight flush, and said, "In all matters in which I take no particular interest. Where I am concerned I am _exigeante_, and--I am afraid--stubborn." "Let us call it 'firm,' Miss Guyon," said Frere, with a slight smile. "Firmness is a quality by no means reprehensible, even when exercised towards one's father. It's a horrible thing this break-up of the season, especially as one gets older. All the little pleasant--well, I suppose I may call them friendships--are nipped in the bud until next April, when one has to begin again and struggle on until August, when we find ourselves in exactly the same position in which we were a twelvemonth before." "That is, unless we take up with a different set of friends," said Katharine; "and I believe there are instances on record of such a change." Gordon Frere looked at her again, and threw an additional warmth into his voice as he said, "Granted that fidelity is uncommon, Miss Guyon, it should be the more prized when it is found. You are going to-night to Mrs. Tresillian's?" "Yes; Lady Henmarsh has promised to take me. It is almost my 'last rose of summer;' positively the last of our ball-engagements this season." "Let us trust it will be one of the pleasantest. You will come early, and you will give me the first _valse_, and as many afterwards as you can." "I--I shall be very happy; but we shall leave early. Papa has a holy horror of having his horses kept out late, more especially when he is not present; and he will not be there to-night, I think; for he's going to ask Mr. Streightley to dine with us, and I believe he wants to talk business to him afterwards." "Mr. Streightley going to dine with you! By the way, who is Mr. Streightley?" "Mr. Streightley? he's a horror--I didn't mean that. He's a City friend of papa's, and, as I'm told, a very rich man." "Very rich, and in the City, eh!" said Gordon Frere, looking over his shoulder at the object of their remark. "He's better got up than most of his genus. I think I could swear to Poole in his coat. Very rich, and you've been told so, Miss Guyon! He's a lucky man."