They reached the "block", that strip of Collins Street which forms the fashionable promenade. Here the road was full of cabs and carriages, and there was a great crowd on the pavement. The girls progressed but slowly. People were meeting their friends, shopping, changing books at the library, eating ices at the confectioner's, fruit at the big fruit-shop round the corner. There were a large number of high-collared young dudes, some Trinity and Ormond men with coloured hatbands, ladies with little parcels dangling from their wrists, and countless schoolgirls like themselves. Tilly grew momentarily livelier; her big eyes pounced, hawk-like, on every face she met, and her words to Laura became more disjointed than before. Finally, her efforts were crowned with success: she managed, by dint of glance and smile combined, to unhook a youth of her acquaintance from a group at a doorway, and to attach him to herself. In high good humour now that her aim was accomplished, she set about the real business of the morning--that of promenading up and down. She had no longer even a feigned interest left for Laura, and the latter walked beside the couple a lame and unnecessary third. Though she kept a keen watch for Bob, she could not discover him, and her time was spent for the most part in dodging people, and in catching up with her companions for it was difficult to walk three abreast in the crowd. Then she saw him--and with what an unpleasant shock. If only Tilly did not see him, too! But no such luck was hers. "Look out, there's Bob," nudged Tilly almost at once. Alas! there was no question of his waiting longingly for her to appear. He was walking with two ladies, and laughing and talking. He raised his hat to his cousin and her friend, but did not disengage himself, and passing them by disappeared in the throng. Behind her hand Tilly buzzed: "One of those Woodwards is awfully sweet on him. I bet he can't get loose." This was a drop of comfort. But as, at the next encounter, he still did not offer to join them--could it, indeed, be expected that he would prefer her company to that of the pretty, grown-up girls he was with?--as he again sidled past, Tilly, who had given him one of her most vivacious sparkles, turned and shot a glance at Laura's face. "For pity's sake, look a little more amiable, or he won't come at all." Laura felt more like crying; her sunshine was intercepted, her good spirits were quenched; had she had her will, she would have turned tail and gone straight back to school. She had not wanted Bob, had never asked him to be 'gone' on her, and if she had now to fish for him, into the bargain...However there was no help for it; the thing had to be gone through with; and, since Tilly seemed disposed to lay the blame of his lukewarmness at her door, Laura glued her mouth, the next time Bob hove in sight, into a feeble smile. Soon afterwards he came up to them. His cousin had an arch greeting in readiness.