She was running away, but he called her back. Her last words were cordial enough, though her first had been undoubtedly cross. Few people like being startled; it sets them at a disadvantage, and in a more or less ludicrous position. Eugenia had a peculiar dislike to it; she could not bear to be thought nervous or wanting in self-control, and she felt conscious that her cheeks had betrayed her momentary panic, and this added to her annoyance. She had been very desirous of meeting Gerald Thurston heartily when he came, she wanted to please Sydney and Frank; she had felt so happy the last few days that she wanted to please everybody. It was just a little awkward Gerald's arriving in this unexpected way when she was preoccupied and perhaps a little excited about other things, but after all it wouldn't matter. Sydney and Frank would soon make him feel himself at home. So, her momentary annoyance past, she turned back, and willingly enough, when he called to her to stop. "Won't you even shake hands with me, Eugenia?" he said. There was a strange change in his voice from the bright, eager tone in which he had first called her by her name, but she was too self-absorbed to perceive it. "Of course I will," she replied, heartily, holding out her hand. "I beg your pardon for forgetting it. But you really did startle me a good deal, Gerald," she added, looking up with a pretty little air of mingled apology and reproach. "Did I?" he said, gently. "I am very sorry." He had taken her hand and held it, and, anxious now to welcome him kindly, Eugenia did not at once withdraw it. "Yes, indeed," she said. "How was I to know you were not a housebreaker, standing there, you huge person. Fancy meeting you again for the first time in such a queer way." She was now fall of brightness and merriment. So like, so very like, the Eugenia he had left, that he began to recover from the first thrill of disappointment, to think that perhaps there had been no real cause for it. This gay, laughing manner was not exactly what he had imagined hers would be when they first met again; but still it was natural and unaffected, and she had always had rather a horror of "scenes." And, after all, if he found her as he had left her, should he not feel satisfied? He had had no grounds for suspecting that she in the least returned his feelings, or was even aware of their existence. He was quite patient enough to begin at the beginning: to teach her by gentle degrees to love him; to serve, if need be, the old world seven years', service for her sake, content with slow progress and small signs of her growing favour. There was but one dread which paralysed him altogether. What if he were too late? He let go her hand. He was anxious in no way to ruffle the extreme sensitiveness he knew so well. "You don't know how I have looked forward to coming home again all these long years, Eugenia."