“Well, of course,” the girl appeared assentingly to muse, “she couldn’t after all have dreamed--!” But she took herself up. “The great thing is to be helpful.” “And in what way--?” Mitchy asked with his wonderful air of inviting competitive suggestions. “Toward Aggie’s finding herself. Do you think,” she immediately continued, “that Lord Petherton really is?” Mitchy frankly considered. “Helpful? Oh he does his best, I gather. Yes,” he presently added--“Petherton’s all right.” “It’s you yourself, naturally,” his companion threw off, “who can help most.” “Certainly, and I’m doing my best too. So that with such good assistance”--he seemed at last to have taken it all from her--“what is it, I again ask, that, as you request, I’m to ‘leave’ to you?” Nanda required, while he still waited, some time to reply. “To keep my promise.” “Your promise?” “Not to abandon you.” “Ah,” cried Mitchy, “that’s better!” “Then good-bye,” she said. “Good-bye.” But he came a few steps forward. “I MAYN’T kiss your hand?” “Never.” “Never?” “Never.” “Oh!” he oddly sounded as he quickly went out. IV The interval he had represented as likely to be useful to her was in fact, however, not a little abbreviated by a punctuality of arrival on Mr. Longdon’s part so extreme as to lead the first thing to a word almost of apology. “You can’t say,” her new visitor immediately began, “that I haven’t left you alone, these many days, as much as I promised on coming up to you that afternoon when after my return to town I found Mr. Mitchett instead of your mother awaiting me in the drawing-room.” “Yes,” said Nanda, “you’ve really done quite as I asked you.” “Well,” he returned, “I felt half an hour ago that, near as I was to relief, I could keep it up no longer; so that though I knew it would bring me much too soon I started at six sharp for our trysting-place.” “And I’ve no tea, after all, to reward you!” It was but now clearly that she noticed it. “They must have removed the things without my heeding.” Her old friend looked at her with some intensity. “Were you in the room?” “Yes--but I didn’t see the man come in.” “What then were you doing?” Nanda thought; her smile was as usual the faintest discernible outward sign. “Thinking of YOU.” “So tremendously hard?” “Well, of other things too and of other persons. Of everything really that in our last talk I told you I felt I must have out with myself before meeting you for what I suppose you’ve now in mind.”