"You should have confided in me, Annie," he said once. "I am not an unreasonable man. I thought this was a pleasure visit; I did not know that my dear little girl had a noble and unselfish project at the back of everything. My Annie will herself know if Lady Lushington is the sort of woman I should like her to be with. If you find her as I should like her to be found, stay with her, Annie, until I recall you. You see how I trust you, my darling." "You do, you do," answered the girl; "and I love you," she added, "as I never loved you before." CHAPTER FIFTEEN. A TRAVELLING COMPANION. Nothing interfered with Annie's arrangements. She left Rashleigh by the train by which she had always intended to go up to town. She took a room at the Grosvenor Hotel for the night, spending what little time she had in doing some necessary shopping. Her intention was to write to Uncle Maurice for further funds on her arrival at the Grand Hotel. She would know there Lady Lushington's movements, and could tell her uncle where to forward letters. There was one thing, however, which brought rather a sting with it. There was a memory which she did not care to recall; that was the look on John Saxon's face when he bade her good-bye. John Saxon had been her very good friend. He had helped her with funds so that her wicked action with regard to Dawson's cheque would never now be discovered. He had also smoothed the way for her with her uncle. She had gone away from the Rectory with Uncle Maurice's blessing sounding in her ears; and although Mrs Shelf was decidedly chuff, and muttered things under her breath, and declared resolutely that she had no patience with gadabouts, and that there was a time for preserving, and not for preserving, and a time for nursing, and not for nursing; and a time for pleasuring, and not for pleasuring, these things made little impression on Annie; but John Saxon, who was silent and said nothing at all, made her feel uncomfortable. Just at the end he made a solitary remark: "Give us your address as soon as possible; for, if necessary, I will telegraph for you. And now good-bye. I trust you will enjoy yourself and--and--save your friend." Then the train had whizzed out of sight. She no longer saw the upright figure and the manly face, and she no longer felt the disapproval in the voice and the want of confidence in the eyes. But the memory of these things remained with her, and she wanted to shut them away. The next morning she was in good time at Victoria Station. But what was her amazement to find standing on the same platform, and evidently intending to go to Dover by the same train, no less a person than her old schoolfellow, Priscilla Weir!