“He’s a clever fellow to make you forget the esplanade and Lottie.” “Now you’re angry,” she laughed, and snuggled closer. We entered the old marketplace of Yarminster where the Fair was being held. Leaving our horse at _The Anchor_ to be baited, we threaded our way between booths and whirligo-rounds. Presently I heard a familiar cry, “Two shies a penny. Two shies a penny. Every ball ’its a cocoanut. Down she goes. Walk up. Walk up. Two shies a penny.” Dodging up and down behind the pitch, was G’liath, not much altered. The gaudy woman was absent; it was Lilith who was serving out the balls to the country bumpkins. “Here’s Ruthita,” I said. “You remember the little girl in the Forest?” She went on catching the wooden balls which G’liath returned to her. Trade was busy. Between reiterating his call, she conversed with us. “I remember. (Two shies a penny). It doesn’t seem long ago. (Every ball ’its a cocoanut. Walk up). How long is it?” “The best part of fourteen years.” It was difficult to carry on a conversation under the circumstances. “I wanted to ask you about last night,” I whispered. “When’ll you be free?” “Not until midnight.” I saw Ruthita listening, so I changed the subject. “By the way, we met someone who knew you when you were a girl at Woadley. He wanted to be remembered to you.” Her handsome face darkened. “A man?” she asked. “My cousin, Lord Halloway.” She halted and looked round on me in proud astonishment. “Oh!” she gasped, and renewed her calling. Ruthita broke in to tell her of my good fortune. She did not pay much attention at first. Then it seemed to dawn on her. “So he’s out of it, and you’ll be master at Woadley Hall?” “Yes.” I lowered my voice. “And then you must come back to Woadley Ham. You were good to me once, Lilith.” “I never forget.” There was a look of the old kindness in her eyes as she said it. “When you need me, I shall come.” The crowd pressed about us, curious to overhear, surprised at seeing gentlefolks so chatty with a gipsy hussy. She signed to us to go. We drew off a few paces, looking on, recalling that night at Epping, when we fled from Dot-and-Carry-One and came to G’liath’s encampment. Shortly after that the clock of St. Nicholas boomed three, and we departed. CHAPTER IX--THE ELOPEMENT Ruthita was anxious to accompany me to the station. “I don’t want you,” I told her. “Women always make a fuss over partings.” “But not sensible women,” she protested, smiling. “Let me come. There’s a dear.” “You’ll try to kiss me. You’ll make a grab at my neck just as the train is moving. I shall feel embarrassed. You’ll probably slip off the platform and get both your legs cut off. A nice memory to take with me to London! No, thank you.” “But I won’t try to kiss you, and I won’t grab at your neck. I’ll be most careful about my legs. And I don’t think it’s nice of you to mention them so callously, Dante.”