Mary was to give a good big sum out of her hard-won earnings to help them out. Walter wrote lots of letters, full of promises; and Mary sighed over the promises, knowing how little they were worth. What could one expect from a man who would say anything that was convenient at any time, and never trouble himself to keep his word? We didn't suppose he would come to see Mary before he went, but he did. She had given him so much money, she couldn't afford to go to him; and indeed mother and I hoped they would not meet, for there could be only pain for Mary in seeing him. Mother could bear to hear Walter's name by this time, near upon three years having gone since father's death; but still she never talked of him without a sort of shudder. I suppose that was the reason why, when Mary heard from Walter that he meant to look in on a certain day, she didn't tell mother nor me a word about it. She only settled for us to go out for a walk. I couldn't think why she was so bent on that, making me leave the sleeve I'd nearly finished, and refusing any delay. As it happened, never knowing or suspecting that Walter was to be in Redland that day, mother and I for once went towards Bristol, instead of on the Downs. Most likely Mary hadn't a doubt that we should choose the Downs. We didn't, though, for it was close upon Mary's birthday, and mother wanted to choose a present. So we walked down Park Street, and into College Green, and spent a good while looking into the shop windows. Mother had a difficulty in making up her mind what to get, which wasn't like to herself in old days; and I had to help her, and yet seem to leave her free. At last it was all settled, and we were coming slowly back along the White Ladies Road, having reached a quiet part not far from home, when all at once I saw Walter Russell bearing down upon us at full speed, like a steam-engine. I don't know how it was we hadn't met him going down. He must have gone round some other way. Well—there he was; and I saw in a moment that he was changed. His dress was shabby, and his hair wasn't sleek, and he had a sort of uncomfortable down-look, as if he didn't care to meet people. I'm sure he didn't care to meet us, any way. And the jaunty air was gone. But, besides the change in him, there was a change in me. The three years between seventeen and twenty do make a lot of difference, you know, in a girl's mind and in what she likes. When I saw him there came a sort of wonder—how could I ever have fancied I cared for that man? Had I been crazy? I didn't think for a moment that mother would notice him. I thought she would pass him by. And I knew he would be glad to rush past, as if he didn't know us. But she gave him a look, and stopped short just in his path. So he couldn't choose but stop too. "Is that Walter Russell?" says mother, and she turned pale as death, while he went as red as fire. "Er—yes," says he, with a sort of stammer, as if he wasn't sure.