“Certainly, ma’am, certainly,” cried the mistress of the shop, rushing round from behind the counter to place a chair for her and offer a glass of water. She sat down so as to be visible from the door, but still with her back to it. The step had stopped, and there was a shadow across the window--the tall shadow of a man looking in. A smile came upon Miss Lance’s face--of gratitude and thanks to the kind people--also perhaps of some internal satisfaction. But she did not act as if she were conscious of anyone waiting for her. She took the glass of water with many acknowledgments; she leant back on the chair murmuring, “Thanks, thanks,” to the exhortations of the shop-woman not to hurry, to take a good rest. She did not hurry at all. Finally, she was so much better as to be able to buy her silks, and, declaring herself quite restored, to go out again into the open air. She was met by the shadow that had been visible through the window, and which, as she knew very well, was Colonel Kingsward, stiff and embarrassed, yet with great anxiety in his face. “I feared you were ill,” he said, with a little jerk, the words coming in spite of him. “I feared you were fainting.” “Oh, Colonel Kingsward, you!” “Yes--I feared you were fainting. It is--nothing, I hope?” “Nothing but exhaustion,” she said, with a faint smile. “I was very tired, but I have rested and I am a little better now.” “Will you let me call a cab for you? You don’t seem fit to walk.” “Oh, no cab, thanks! I would much rather walk--the air and the slow movement does one a little good.” She was pale, and her voice was rather faint, and every line of her dress, as I have said, was tired--tired to death--and yet not ungracefully tired. “I cannot let you go like this alone.” His voice softened every moment; they went on for a step or two together. “You had better--take my arm, at least,” he said. She took it with a little cry and a sudden clasp. “I think you are not a mere man, but an archangel of kindness and goodness,” she said, with a faint laugh that broke down, and tears in her eyes. And I think for that moment, in the extraordinary revulsion of feeling, Miss Lance almost believed what she said. CHAPTER XIX.