“I don’t think so,” said Gerard. “Indeed, I’m sure you do yourself an injustice. Your lightness of hand and quickness of eye are quite remarkable. And the wonderful way in which you move, so that you get from one place to another without being seen on the way, if I may so express it, reminds one rather of a bird than of the average solid, stolid thing we call a human being.” Miss Davison was amused, rather pleased, by his evident enthusiasm, and when he modestly and stammeringly expressed a hope that she would let him know if she decided to make any practical use of her talents, she told him that when she and her mother came to town, she would ask him to go and see them. “At present,” she added, “we are living quite in the country, and we can’t receive any visitors because my mother is not well enough.” “And how shall I know--through the Aldingtons--when you come to town?” asked Gerard eagerly. “Oh, yes; they will know before anyone. Mrs. Aldington is such a dear, and so is her husband; and so, for that matter, are Arthur and Rose. Yes, whenever we come up, and wherever we settle, they will know our address at once.” When Miss Davison rose to go, Gerard Buckland was not long in following her. He came up with her before she reached the corner of the street, and begged to be allowed to see her to the station. But she refused, saying quite gently that she must get used to going about alone, and that it was the first step towards women’s rights. He looked pained. “I should have been so very grateful to you if you had let me call upon you!” he said humbly, wistfully. Her face grew grave. “No,” she said; “I can’t do that. The plain truth is that my mother has not yet got over a terrible change in circumstances which we’ve suffered not long ago, and she can’t bear that anyone should see us in what is practically a workman’s cottage. Prejudice again, of course, but it has to be considered.” “May I hope for the pleasure of meeting you again at the Aldingtons?” “Oh, yes, I’m often there. I shall be very pleased to see you again when I go there.” She gave him her hand and he was obliged to bid her good-bye and leave her. But the impression she had made upon him was so strong, deepened, no doubt, by the circumstances in which she was placed, and also, perhaps, by her resolute attitude which was neither coquetry nor prudery, but simply pride, that he could scarcely think of anything for the next few days but the pale oval face and the big brown eyes, alternately gay and grave, and the soft voice that was different from the voices of other girls. He went to the Aldingtons assiduously after that, always hoping to meet Miss Davison again. But each time he was disappointed, and at last he grew ashamed of calling so often, and of being so dull when he was there, and absented himself for a couple of months from the old-fashioned Bayswater house and its gay circle.