'I was going to meet Lyddy--my sister. I don't go to work myself now, Mr. Egremont. Perhaps Gilbert has told you?' 'No, he hasn't mentioned it. But I am glad to hear it.' 'I don't much like my sister going alone, but she doesn't really mind.' 'I hope I shall soon know your sister.' He had suspended the work, and stood with one foot upon the case. Thyrza reflected, then said: 'I hope you will like her, Mr. Egremont.' 'I am sure I shall. I know that you are very fond of your sister.' 'Yes.' Her voice faltered a little. 'I couldn't have gone to live away from her.' Egremont bent to his task again, and speedily raised the lid. There was a covering of newspapers, and then the books were revealed. 'Now,' he said, 'it shall be your hand that puts the first on the shelf.' He took out the first volume of a copy of Gibbon, and walked with it to the wall. 'This shall be its place, and there it shall always stay.' 'Will you tell me what the book is about, Mr. Egremont?' Thyrza asked, timidly taking it from him. 'I should like to remember it.' He told her, as well as he could. Thyrza stood in thought for a moment, then just opened the pages. Egremont watched her. 'I wonder whether I shall ever be able to read that?' she said, in an under-voice. 'Oh yes, I'm sure you will.' 'And I've to stand it here?' 'Just there. You shall put all the volumes in their place, one after the other. There are eight of them.' He brought them altogether, and one by one she took them from him. Then they went back to the case again, and there was a short silence. 'Gilbert's going to take me to a concert to-night, Mr. Egremont,' Thyrza said, looking at him shyly. 'Is he? You'll enjoy that. What concert?' 'It's at a place called St. James's Hall.' 'Oh yes! You'll hear admirable music.' 'I've never been to a concert before. But when I was at Eastbourne I heard a lady play the piano. I _did_ enjoy that!' Egremont started. 'Was it Miss Newthorpe?' he asked, looking at her without a smile. 'Yes, that was her name.' She met his look. Walter half turned away, then bent down to the books again. 'I know her,' he said. 'She plays well.' He took a couple of volumes, and went with them to the shelves, where he placed them, without thought, next to the Gibbon. But in a moment he noticed the title, and moved them to another place. He had become absent. Thyrza, remaining by the case, followed his movements with her eyes. As he came back, he asked: 'Did you like Mrs. Ormonde?' 'Yes. She was very kind to me.' To him it seemed an inadequate reply, and strengthened his fear that Mrs. Ormonde had not shown all the warmth he would have desired. Yet, as it proved, she had asked Annabel to play for Thyrza. Thyrza, too, felt that she ought to say more, but all at once she found a difficulty in speaking. Her thoughts had strayed. 'I think I must go now,' she said, 'or I shall miss my sister.'