As she spoke, Mrs. Robinson was watching the girl by her side. Now and again a gleam of bright light cast a glow on the serious childish face, showed the curves of the sensible firm mouth, lit up the hazel eyes, so empty of youthful laughter. During the drive to the Settlement Cecily had talked eagerly, had poured out her heart to her new friend, telling far more than she knew she told, both of her past and present life. And Mrs. Robinson's active, intelligent brain was busy evolving a scheme of release for the young creature to whom she had taken one of her unreasoning instinctive likings. When at last, it seemed all too soon to Cecily, the carriage stopped before old Miss Wake's dingy Mayfair lodging, Mrs. Robinson held the other's hand a moment before saying good-bye. She did not offer to kiss the girl, for Penelope was not given to kissing; but she said very kindly: 'We must meet again soon. I am going to Brighton for a few days next week. Suppose I were to come in to-morrow morning and ask Miss Wake to let you go there with me? We would go out to your convent, and I should make friends with the old French nun of whom you are so fond. She and I might think of something which would make your life here a little less dull, a little more cheerful.' And that night no happier girl lay down to sleep in London than Cecily Wake. IV Mrs. Robinson was also in a softened mood, and when she found David Winfrith waiting for her in the library of the old house in Cavendish Square which had been her father's, and which had seen the coming and going of so many famous people, she greeted him with a gaiety, an intimate warmth of manner, which quickened his pulses, and almost caused him to say words he had made up his mind never again to utter. Soon she was kneeling by the fire warming her hands, talking eagerly, looking up, smiling into the plain, clean-shaven face, of which she knew every turn and expression. 'You must forgive and approve me for being late,' she exclaimed. 'I have spent my afternoon exactly as you would always have me do! Firstly, I fulfilled my social dooty, as Mr. Gumberg would say, by going to the Walberton wedding'--a slight grimace defaced for a moment her charming eyes and mouth--'enough to put one out of love for ever with matrimony; but, then, my ideal still remains in those matters what it always was.' In answer to a questioning look her eyelids flickered as she said two words, 'Gretna Green!' and an almost imperceptible quiver also passed over Winfrith's face. She went on eagerly, pleased with the betrayal of feeling her words had evoked: 'Then I drove to the Settlement, where I listened patiently while Philip Hammond and Mrs. Pomfret poured their woes into my ears.' 'That I'm sure they did not,' he interrupted good-humouredly.