"I have run away from my own friends, and--gone rather far to do it," said the Boy. "Yet I seem destined to meet other people's. It was with very different intentions that I set out on this journey of mine." "'Journeys end in lovers' meetings,'" I quoted carelessly. "Perhaps yours will end so." "I thought I had done with lovers," said the Boy, with one of his odd smiles. "You're not old enough to begin with them yet." "I was thinking of--my sister. Her experience was a lesson in love I'm not likely to forget soon. Yet sometimes I--I'm not sure I learned the lesson in the right way. But we won't talk of that. Tell me about your friends. I'm becoming inured to social duties now." "You don't seem to find them too onerous. As for my friends--they're an old chum of mine, Jack Winston, and his bride of a few months, the most exquisite specimen of an American girl I ever met. Perhaps you may have heard of her. She's the daughter of Chauncey Randolph, one of your millionaires. Look out! Was that a stone you stumbled over?" "Yes. I gave my ankle a twist. It's all right now. I daresay my sister knows your friend." "I must ask Molly Winston, when I write, or see her. But you've never told me your sister's name, except that she's called 'Princess.' If I say Miss Laurence----" "There are so many Laurences. Did you--ever mention in your letters to--your friends that you were--travelling with anyone?" "I haven't written to them since I knew your name, but before that, I told them there was a boy whom I had met by accident and chummed up with, just before Aosta. I think I rather spread myself on a description of our meeting." "You _didn't_ do that! How horrid of you!" "Oh, I put it right afterwards, I assure you, in another letter. I told them that in spite of the bad beginning, we'd become no end of pals. That we travelled together, stopped at the same hotels, and--what's the matter?" "Nothing. My ankle does hurt a little, after all. Shall you go on in your friends' motor car if you meet them?" He looked up at me very earnestly as he spoke. "At one time I thought of doing so, if we ran across each other. But now that I've got you----" "Who knows how long we may have each other? Either one of us may change his plans--suddenly. You mustn't count on me, Lord Lane." "Look here," I said crossly, "do speak out. Don't hint things. Do you mean me to understand that you wish to stop at Aix, indefinitely, and play out your little comedy of flirtation to its close?" "I don't know what I intend to do; now, less than ever," answered the Boy in a very low voice, the shadow of his long lashes on his cheeks. I was too much hurt to question him further, and we pursued our way in silence, along the lake side, and then up the billowy lower slopes of the Semnoz. We had showers of rain in the sunshine; and the long, thin spears of crystal glittered like spun glass, until dim clouds spread over the bright patches of blue, and the world grew mistily grey-green.