"But how topping to see you," said Paul, delighted, shaking hands. "I say, do let me introduce my friend. Mr. Hartley; Miss Thornton, Miss Edith Thornton. Where are you staying?" "At 'The Pines.'" "I know--the Y.W.C.A. house. When did you arrive?" "Saturday. We might have met before, only really there are so many girls in the house, and the Matron arranges a full programme for us each day. Where are you staying, Mr. Hartley?" Paul turned more directly to Edith, who had scarcely spoken. "What luck!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. Edith glanced cautiously at her sister, who was talking now animatedly to Dick. "Paul, isn't it?" she said. "And I do want to see you so much." "We must fix up something. What are you doing this afternoon?" "We're all going for a picnic on the lake." "Then we'll come too." She laughed. "You can't, you know. Unless you come and be introduced to Matron and she invites you. And that she won't do unless you please her immensely--which I fear is not likely." "Oh, I say--why ever not?" The girl flushed, and laughed again. "Why?" cried the intrigued Paul. "I shan't tell you." "Oh, do!" "Well, if you must know, because you won't behave. You give yourself away too openly. Girls, staying at the Y.W.C.A. in Keswick Week, are supposed to--to--to----" "To what?" "To get on without men, anyway. Unless they're properly engaged." "But aren't you ever free?" "I might be." "When? I know--to-morrow morning, early. We'll cut the prayer meeting for once, and go and walk by the lake." "Oh, Paul, if we could!" "Will you try?" (4) And so, on that last day, Paul and Edith wandered off in the early morning by the road that leads along the lake, and exchanged impressions. It was a cold summer that year in the North, and there was a drifting mist over the water which the sun had not yet dispersed. High above it, the great hills lifted themselves, and there was a sound of tinkling water on the air, for it had rained heavily the night before and the little rills were full. The sky, too, was alive with soft lights of grey and white and blue. Where the road bends out of sight of the last houses, Paul took the hand that swung by the girl's side, and, remote and virginal, they walked together hand in hand. "Well, Paul dear," she said, "tell me everything." And Paul tried to tell her.... "And Keswick," he said at last, "only sums it all up. You can't escape from it, Edith. People believe all sorts of different things even here. 'All one in Christ'--but they aren't. And how can they be, unless there is some voice to interpret Him to us?" "But it can't be the Church of Rome, Paul!" she cried, in real distress.