Mrs. Bonner quivered with curiosity. Who was this lodger of hers who received letters from Miss Meredyth, when he had not even admitted that he knew her? “Very funny!” thought Mrs. Bonner. Hugh read the letter. “I am sorry—for what I did.... I ask you to forgive me.... Perhaps I have hurt myself more than I have hurt you ...” “Any answer to go back to the Hall?” “None!” “Ah!” Mrs. Bonner hesitated. “I didn’t know you knew Miss Meredyth.” “I am going out,” said Hugh. Avoid Mrs. Bonner while she was in this curious mood, he knew he must. “If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it is secretiveness,” said Mrs. Bonner, as she watched him up the road towards the village. Should he answer the letter? Hugh wondered. Or should he just accept it in silence, as an apology for an act of rudeness? He hated that idea. She might think that he did not forgive, that he bore malice and ill-will. “No, I must answer it,” he decided, “but what shall I say?” He knew what he wanted to say, he knew that he wanted to ask her to meet him, and he knew only too well that she would refuse. “There is no sense,” said Hugh deliberately, “no sense whatever in riding for a certain fall.” He was staring at a small flaxen-haired, dirty-faced boy as he spoke. The boy grinned at him. “You have a sense of humour,” said Hugh, “and, no doubt, a sweet tooth.” He felt in his pocket for the coin that the Starden children had grown to expect from him. The boy took it, yelled and whooped, and sped down the street to the sweetstuff shop. “But the fact remains,” said Hugh to himself, “there is no sense in deliberately riding for a fall. If I asked her to meet me, she would either refuse or ignore the request, so I shall not ask. Yet, all the same, she and I will meet sooner or later, and when we meet, it will be by accident, not by—” He paused. Outside the cycle-shop stood a small two-seater car that had a familiar look to Hugh. As he glanced at the car its owner came out of the shop with a can of petrol in his hand. He saw Hugh, looked him in the eyes, and nodded in friendly fashion. “A nice day!” he said. “Very!” “I have to thank you for helping my—” Johnny paused; he had almost said sister, but of course Ellice was not his sister—“my little friend yesterday, about the bike I mean.” “That’s nothing! Excuse interference on my part, but if you pour that petrol into the radiator, you will probably develop trouble.” Johnny Everard laughed. “I am new to it, and I am always doing odd things like that. Of course, that’s for water. Lawson over at Little Langbourne generally sees to things for me.” Hugh nodded. He looked at the man standing but a few feet from him, the man who was to gain that which Hugh coveted and desired most in the world, looked at him and yet felt no dislike, no great enmity, no furious hate.