He could not forego the pleasure of being with Lizzie. An old woman with a provision basket on her lap drew her skirts aside and made way for him; there were three dirtily dressed girls--probably shop girls; they sat whispering together, a little troubled by the publicity; there were two youths, shabbily dressed, their worn boots and trousers covered with London mud. He was surprised, and he did not for a moment understand or realise his company. Frank had never been in a third-class carriage before. “I'm afraid you won't be comfortable here.” “Oh, yes, I shall; I'd just as soon travel in one class as another--much sooner when it means being with you.” “None of your nonsense; I see you haven't changed. Well, who'd have thought it? Just fancy meeting you, and after all this time.” “How long is it? It must be nearly two years. I haven't seen you sincethat day we went up the river.” “Yes, you have.” “No; where did I see you since?” “At the bar; I didn't leave the 'Gaiety' for several days after.” “No more you did; I remember now. But why did you leave without letting me know where you were going?” “I didn't know I was leaving till the morning, and I left in the afternoon. A lot of us were changed suddenly. The firm couldn't get enough young ladies to do the work at the Exhibition.” “But you didn't leave an address.” “Yes, I did.” “No, you didn't; I asked the manager, and he told me you had left no address. They didn't know where you had gone.” “Did he say so? You mean Mr. Fairlie, I suppose--now I come to think of it, it is the rule of the firm not to give information about the young ladies. I am sorry.” “Are you?” “I am, really. We had a very pleasant day up the river--Reading; you took me to Reading.” “Yes; but you would never come again.” “Wouldn't I? I suppose I couldn't find time--I did enjoy myself. What a lovely day it was.” “Yes; and do you remember how like a beautiful smile the river lay? And do you remember the bulrushes? I rowed you in among the rushes; you wet the sleeve of your dress plunging your arm in. I remember it, that white plump arm.” “Get along with you.” “I wanted to make a sketch of you leaning over the boatside with your lapful of water-lilies; I wish I had.” “I wish you had, too; you wrote a little poem instead. It was very pretty, but I should have liked the picture better. You gave me the poem next day when you came in to lunch. You had lunch at the bar, and I was so cross with you because you said I hadn't wiped the glass. It was all done to annoy me because I had been talking to that tall, rather stout young man, with the dark moustache, whom you were so jealous of. Don't you remember?” “Yes, I remember; and I believe it was that fellow who prevented you from coming out with me again.” “No, it wasn't; but don't speak so loud, all these people are listening to you.” Frank met the round stare of the girls; and, turning from the dormant curiosity of the old woman, he said--