In vain Gerard told himself that he was glad to have seen her with Denver Van Santen, that now he could go his way with an easy mind, secure in the knowledge that Rachel Davison was merely a friend and accomplice of thieves, shop-lifters, and other undesirable persons, and that the very fact of her allowing herself to be made love to by this swaggering gamester proved conclusively how unfit she was to be loved by any honest man. The fiercer he grew as he told himself these things, the more savagely he watched the two as they sauntered among the people, and at last joined a large group, among whom Gerard recognized the pale face and simple gray silk gown of Cora Van Santen, and the homely features of her mother, who, good soul, looked more out of place than ever, in her old-fashioned large bonnet and heavy dolman, among the crowds of well-dressed women around her. As before at the Priory, the family was surrounded by smart English people, of whom Gerard recognized two or three. One was Sir William Gurdon, who was talking eagerly to Delia, and another was Arthur Aldington, who could not tear himself away from Cora. Gerard watched them from a distance, but did not go near them. He saw that Denver could not leave Rachel’s side, and that she, instead of resenting his persistent attentions, appeared to be encouraging him. But the firmness with which he told himself that he was glad, and that now he could whistle her off and leave her to her undesirable friends, soon left him; and on the very first opportunity, when he saw Rachel for a moment on the outside of the crowd formed by the Americans and their friends, he pounced upon her, and suddenly presenting himself like a brigand rather than a casually met friend, said between his clenched teeth-- “I must speak to you. I will.” He expected to be snubbed, to be dismissed more or less coldly; but, to his surprise, Rachel turned very white, as she always did when excited, and then flushed a little, and said-- “Very well. We can come back to Mrs. Van Santen afterwards.” She walked away with him at a rapid pace, so that they were soon lost to the sight of her friends, and mingling in the general crowd. The night was fine and warm, and the gardens were full. It was without the slightest difficulty that they got the opportunity Gerard wanted, of speaking to her from the depths of his heart. “Why do you let that fellow talk to you? Do you care for him?” he asked, conscious as he spoke that he was using a tone which, considering all the circumstances, was as unjustifiable as it was absurd. “I couldn’t help his talking to me, Mr. Buckland. I was staying with his people before I went abroad with my mother, and I am visiting them again now.” “Do you care for him?” “I like them all; and as for Mr. Denver, he wants me to marry him.” “To marry him! And you are going to?” She hesitated. “I haven’t given him any answer yet.” “Of course I know I have no right to ask.”