She rose hastily from the table, and darted up to her own room. 'Lois,' she said, as she rose, in a curious voice of mingled regret and suspicion, 'I will talk to you about this later.' I could see she was not quite satisfied in her own mind whether Harold Tillington and I had not arranged this _coup_ together. I put on my hat and strolled off into the garden, and then along the mossy hill path. In a minute more, Harold Tillington was beside me. He seated me, half against my will, on a rustic bench. 'Look here, Miss Cayley,' he said, with a very earnest face; 'is this really true? Are you going to-morrow?' My voice trembled a little. 'Yes,' I answered, biting my lip. 'I am going. I see several reasons why I should go, Mr. Tillington.' 'But so soon?' 'Yes, I think so; the sooner the better.' My heart was racing now, and his eyes pleaded mutely. 'Then where are you going?' I shrugged my shoulders, and pouted my lips a little. 'I don't know,' I replied. 'The world is all before me where to choose. I am an adventuress,' I said it boldly, 'and I am in quest of adventures. I really have not yet given a thought to my next place of sojourn.' 'But you will let me know when you have decided?' It was time to speak out. 'No, Mr. Tillington,' I said, with decision. 'I will _not_ let you know. One of my reasons for going is, that I think I had better see no more of you.' He flung himself on the bench at my side, and folded his hands in a helpless attitude. 'But, Miss Cayley,' he cried, 'this is so short a notice; you give a fellow no chance; I hoped I might have seen more of you--might have had some opportunity of--of letting you realise how deeply I admired and respected you--some opportunity of showing myself as I really am to you--before--before----' he paused, and looked hard at me. I did not know what to say. I really liked him so much; and when he spoke in that voice, I could not bear to seem cruel to him. Indeed, I was aware at the moment how much I had grown to care for him in those six short days. But I knew it was impossible. 'Don't say it, Mr. Tillington,' I murmured, turning my face away. 'The less said, the sooner mended.' 'But I must,' he cried. 'I must tell you now, if I am to have no chance afterwards. I wanted you to see more of me before I ventured to ask you if you could ever love me, if you could ever suffer me to go through life with you, to share my all with you.' He seized my trembling hand. 'Lois,' he cried, in a pleading voice, 'I _must_ ask you; I can't expect you to answer me now, but _do_ say you will give me at least some other chance of seeing you, and then, in time, of pressing my suit upon you.'