"Think a moment. Let us both think. We are very young, and I know I ’m hasty. Let us sit quite still, and think hard whether we ’d like to meet again. Let us look at each other and not speak." [Illustration: "LET US SIT QUITE STILL AND THINK HARD WHETHER WE’D LIKE TO MEET AGAIN"] She met his look quite frankly for a moment—but only for a moment. Slowly her head sank and her eyes half closed, and when she spoke, she spoke very shyly. "I do not see why you should not come again," she whispered. "I see why I should! I must!—But it must be differently." "Differently—?" "I mustn’t come on the sly. I’ll get an introduction." "But none of your friends are likely to know anybody in Pomander Walk!" Jack leaped up. "Is this Pomander Walk?" he almost shouted. "Why, that ’s what I Ve been looking for all the afternoon. That’s where my friend lives—the Admiral!" It was Marjolaine’s turn to be astonished. "Not Sir Peter Antrobus!" "Yes!—Do you know him?" "Why, he’s the King of the Walk! He lives at Number One. If you ’re quite quiet you can almost hear him snoring!" "Why, there we are then! I’m introduced! I’m on a proper footing! The whole thing’s ship-shape! O Marjory, what a relief!" "But I don’t understand—" "Yes, you do. He ’s my father’s oldest friend. I served under him as a middy on board the _Termagant_. I ’m very fond of him. I ’ll come and see him to-morrow!" Marjolaine clapped her hands. "And then he can introduce you to Maman!" "Don’t you see? It’s grand! I’ll come and see him often—every day—twice a day. If he ’s out, I can sit under the elm and wait for him—with you. Oh! are n’t you glad?" "I’m very glad you ’ve found your old friend," she answered demurely. "What’s to-day?" "Quintidi. Fifth Prairial. Year Thirteen—" she replied without thinking. Jack could only stare. "What are you talking about?" "Oh," she laughed, "I had forgotten I was in England. Saturday." Jack’s face sank. "Then to-morrow ’s Sunday. Hang. Well! I’ll come on Monday. Shall you be here?" "I am always here." "Be under the elm." He thought a moment, and then added insidiously, "Shall you your mother about to-day?" Marjolaine hesitated. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the proper formalities had been observed. "On Monday; when you’ve been introduced." "That’s it!" cried Jack. "And now I’ll be off." He took both her hands in his. "Good-bye. Oh, but it’s good to be alive! It’s good to be young! The river is good that brought me here! The sun is good that made me thirsty!" "And the claret was good?" "The claret—! Nectar!—Oh, Jack!—Jack!—" Marjolaine held up the glass, still half full. "Finish it, then." Jack started back in horror, but seeing the dawning surprise on her face, bravely seized the tumbler and dashed it off. Thus swiftly was his perjury avenged. "Good-bye, little Marjory. Till Monday!" She looked up at him wistfully. "You think you will come?"