"We are bordering upon the forbidden subject," she reminded him, with a look which was almost reproachful. "You must please believe me when I tell you, that for me things have already been arranged otherwise. Come, I want you to tell me all about this country into which we are going. You must remember that to me it is all new!" He suffered her to lead the conversation into other channels, with a vague feeling of disquiet. The mystery which hung around the girl and her uncle seemed only to grow denser as his desire to penetrate it grew. At present, at any rate, he was baffled. He dared ask no more questions. The train glided into Peterborough station before either of them were well aware that they had entered in earnest upon the journey. Wolfenden looked out of the window with amazement. "Why, we are nearly half way there!" he exclaimed. "How wretched!" She smiled, and took up a magazine. Wolfenden's servant came respectfully to the window. "Can I get you anything, my lord?" he inquired. Wolfenden shook his head, and opening the door, stepped out on to the platform. "Nothing, thanks, Selby," he said. "You had better get yourself some lunch. We don't get to Deringham until four o'clock." The man raised his hat and turned away. In a moment, however, he was back again. "You will pardon my mentioning it, my lord," he said, "but the young lady's maid has been travelling in my carriage, and a nice fidget she's been in all the way. She's been muttering to herself in French, and she seems terribly frightened about something or other. The moment the train stopped here, she rushed off to the telegraph office." "She seems a little excitable," Wolfenden remarked. "All right, Selby, you'd better hurry up and get what you want to eat." "Certainly, my lord; and perhaps your lordship knows that there is a flower-stall in the corner there." Wolfenden nodded and hurried off. He returned to the carriage just as the train was moving off, with a handful of fresh, wet violets, whose perfume seemed instantly to fill the compartment. The girl held out her hands with a little exclamation of pleasure. "What a delightful travelling companion you are," she declared. "I think these English violets are the sweetest flowers in the world." She held them up to her lips. Wolfenden was looking at a paper bag in her lap. "May I inquire what that is?" he asked. "Buns!" she answered. "You must not think that because I am a girl I am never hungry. It is two o'clock, and I am positively famished. I sent my maid for them." He smiled, and sweeping away the bundles of rugs and coats, produced the luncheon basket which he had secured at King's Cross, and opening it, spread out the contents. "For two!" she exclaimed, "and what a delightful looking salad! Where on earth did that come from?" "Oh, I am no magician," he exclaimed. "I ordered the basket at King's Cross, after I had seen you. Let me spread the cloth here. My dressing-case will make a capital table!"