‘Certainly not. The Parkynsons were well-behaved people, and I trust I am the same. Why should I have found it unpleasant?’ After this exchange of civilities of a dubious kind, the conversation flagged. Though it was nearing the end of July, the light continued strong and clear in that Northern sky until a late hour. They did not stay till late--left, in fact, so early that it was still daylight out-of-doors, and Fulvia said she would walk with them part of the way. She took a light shawl over her arm, and they paced slowly along in the delicious summer evening. The air was filled with scents of flowers and hay; the thick trees stood motionless: their voices, if they raised them in the least, sounded echoing and clear. ‘It is lovely,’ said Fulvia, with a full sigh as of one who passes suddenly from pain to ease. She looked up into the glory of the darkening sky. ‘It rests one only to feel it.’ She was walking in advance with Minna and Richard Hamilton. The gravel drive was wide enough for half a dozen persons to walk abreast upon it, but Hans hung behind. As they drew near Minna’s domain, Fulvia said she must turn back. It was then that Hans stepped forward, saying in a matter-of-course tone: ‘You will not go alone. I shall walk with you to the house.’ ‘As you like,’ replied Fulvia indifferently. She took leave of Minna and Mr. Hamilton, and turned. Hans was by her side. The brother and sister went on in silence for a little time, till at last Minna said, in a tone of vexation, deep though muffled: ‘That was pretty strong, I must say. Richard, why did you not go back with them too?’ ‘Do you think they wanted me?’ ‘What does it matter whether they wanted you or not? I wish--oh, I wish so many things! You do not know how wild with vexation I was, when I saw Hans sitting beside you in the waggonette that evening! It was such impudence in him to come without an invitation!’ ‘He said you had invited him.’ ‘I never did. He invited himself. Of course I could not say no. From the very first I have mistrusted him. He was in love with her in Rome when she was a mere child, and----’ Mr. Hamilton shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t think you see the situation clearly,’ he said, in his indifferent way. ‘There is a situation, and it is one in which no outsider can do anything. For her,’ he added after a full stop, ‘except herself, of course. Whether she is strong or weak, it will prove.’ ‘She is strong,’ Minna asseverated, almost passionately. ‘She must be tremendously strong, or how could she have lived through all she has had to live through, and have come out of it so splendidly?’