Ralph insisted on walking with them till he should meet an omnibus or a cab to take him back to London. Patience did her best to save him from such labour, protesting that they would want no such escort. But he would not be gainsayed, and would go with them at least a part of the way. Of course he did not leave them till they had reached the gate of Popham Villa. But when they were starting there arose a difficulty as to the order in which they would marshal themselves;--a difficulty as to which not a word could be spoken, but which was not the less a difficulty. Clarissa hung back. Ralph had spoken hardly a word to her all the evening. It had better continue so. She was sure that he could not care for her. But she thought that she would be better contented that he should walk with Patience than with Mary Bonner. But Mary took the matter into her own hands, and started off boldly with Patience. Patience hardly approved, but there would be nothing so bad as seeming to disapprove. Clary's heart was in her mouth as she found her arm within his. He had contrived that it should be so, and she could not refuse. Her mind was changed again now, and once more she wished that she could let him know that the crime was forgiven. "I am so glad to have a word with you at last," he said. "How do you get on with the new cousin?" "Very well;--and how have you got on with her?" "You must ask her that. She is very beautiful,--what I call wonderfully beautiful." "Indeed she is," said Clary, withdrawing almost altogether the weight of her hand from his arm. "And clever, too,--very clever; but--" "But what?" asked Clary, and the softest, gentlest half-ounce of pressure was restored. "Well;--nothing. I like her uncommonly;--but is she not quite,--quite,--quite--" "She is quite everything that she ought to be, Ralph." "I'm sure of that;--an angel, you know, and all the rest of it. But angels are cold, you know. I don't know that I ever admired a girl so much in my life." The pressure was again lessened,--all but annihilated. "But, somehow, I should never dream of falling in love with your cousin." "Perhaps you may do so without dreaming," said Clary, as unconsciously she gave back the weight to her hand. "No;--I know very well the sort of girl that makes me spoony." This was not very encouraging to poor Clary, but still she presumed that he meant to imply that she herself was a girl of the sort that so acted upon him. And the conversation went on in this way throughout the walk. There was not much encouragement to her, and certainly she did not say a word to him that could make him feel that she wanted encouragement. But still he had been with her, and she had been happy; and when they parted at the gate, and he again pressed her hand, she thought that things had gone well. "He must know that I have forgiven him now!" she said to herself. CHAPTER XIII. MR. NEEFIT IS DISTURBED.