“What lady?” said Charlie, with a very fictitious look of surprise, and the colour mounting all over his face. “Oh, the lady I met--that lady? Well, she is a lady--whom I have met elsewhere----” “I have met her, too,” cried Bee, breathless, “down at the Baths just before---- Oh, who is she--who is she, Charlie? I think she is one of the Fates.” “You little goose,” cried her brother, and then he laughed in an unsteady way. “Perhaps she is--if there was a good one,” he cried. “She is,” he added, in a different tone, and then paused again; “but I couldn’t tell you half what she is if I were to talk till next week--and never in such a noisy, vulgar place as this.” Then Bee’s mind, driven from one thought to another, came suddenly back with a jar and strain of her nerves to the question about Laura; was it possible that this should be she?--for it was the tone sacred to Laura in which her brother now spoke. “Oh! tell me about her, tell me about her!” she cried, involuntarily clasping her hands--“she isn’t--is she? Oh, Charlie, you will have time to tell me when we get into the park. Didn’t she want to speak to me? Why didn’t you introduce me to her if she is such a great friend of yours?” “Hush! for goodness’ sake, now; you are making people stare,” said Charlie. He hurried down the stairs and across the road outside, making her almost run to keep up with him. “I say, Bee,” he cried hurriedly, when he had signalled to a hansom, “should you mind going by yourself? I hate driving when I can walk. Why, you’ve been in a hansom by yourself before! You’re not going to be such a little goose as to make a fuss about it now.” “Oh, but Charlie--I’d rather walk too, and then you can tell me--” “Oh, nonsense,” he cried, “you’re tired already. It would be too much for you. Portman Square, No. --. Good-bye, Bee. I’ll look up later,” he cried, as, to Bee’s consternation, the wheels of the hansom jarred upon the curb and she felt herself carried rapidly away. CHAPTER XV.