Half absently, Spenceley began to collect the money together that his father had given him, and to lay it out, two five-pound notes and fifteen sovereigns, upon the window-ledge before him. He looked at it pensively, and Mr. Hoyle’s little sharp eyes were fixed with a sidelong gaze, full of interest, upon his face. Mr. Hoyle had surveyed the prospect to more purpose than Mr. Spenceley, and was very anxious that the latter should give over counting out his money, and return to the apparently innocent pursuit of looking out of the window, which he presently did. He plunged his hands into his pockets, and gazed out again, swaying to and fro from his toes to his heels, in the rhythmic manner common to persons in his position. Presently the rhythmic movement ceased. Mr. Spenceley’s attention became concentrated on outside objects, on a figure some two hundred yards distant, approaching down the hill. He looked at her as she came along, in her black dress, with her pale face and her warmly tinted hair. He hated her for a thousand reasons, and because she looked sad and lovely at once, because she was gentle to others and to him an icicle; and most of all, because he had made a great mistake about her in his gross, clumsy, blundering way, and knew now, that if he had but known what she was he would never have insulted her, but would have tried with all his might, though he was not clever, to become good enough for her. But she had prevented that, she had refused him the faintest chance of letting her know that he repented, and by ----, he thought savagely, he did not repent. These women were all alike; either worse than the devil himself, or too icily cold and pure to glance aside at such as he. He watched and watched, as if fascinated; watched how she came along, looking tired and pale, but lovely; despite his hatred he felt, with all the finer feeling he had, that she was lovely, and his head turned, his eyes followed her steps, till she arrived at the gate, and then her face changed, and he gave a great start, for, standing there, exactly as she came up, was Myles Heywood, who had been coming (as the astute Mr. Hoyle had perceived) up the hill from the opposite direction. They met at the gate. Adrienne’s face, after a faint smile, seemed to grow still paler and calmer. She held out her hand. Myles took off his cap, and though he did not smile--unless a slight quiver about the comers of his mouth could be called a smile--yet he took her hand, and they spoke together for a moment at the gate. It was quite evident that it was Adrienne, and not Myles, who made the pause and carried on the conversation which took place before they both came on, past the windows (which had the lower panes frosted, on purpose to baffle vulgar curiosity), without seeing the two striking countenances that were watching them. Myles left Adrienne at the door of the second room, and she went on to the ladies’ room.