"Ridiculous nonsense!" she half murmured, as she turned to go, and why she should have started violently, as at that moment a hand was laid upon her shoulder, she could not have told. It was not the sign of a guilty conscience, for, in all good faith, Winifred as yet had barely taken in that she had been at all to blame. "Misunderstood," "narrowly judged," she had told herself she had been, and she allowed that to others her conduct might have _seemed_ disingenuous. But she was essentially honest, and it is sometimes as difficult for naturally candid persons to take in that they have put themselves into a crooked position, as for a crafty and calculating character to believe in straightforwardness in itself or others. Still she started. And she was assuredly not nervous. It was Hertha's face she looked up into as she turned: Hertha's eyes, searching--and what more? Was it reproach or anxiety, or a mingling of both, that Winifred read in their clear depths? And in spite of herself the girl looked away, while her colour deepened a little. "Did I startle you?" said Miss Norreys. "I am sorry, but--I wanted to speak to you quietly. I have been looking for you." "I am only too ready and delighted to have a chance of you," said Winifred, trying to carry the war into the enemy's country. "But you know I scarcely see you; mamma and the others monopolise you so." There was a touch of truth in the reproach, but Hertha did not feel guilty. She had avoided _tete-a-tete_ conversation with Winifred out of consideration for the girl herself as much as for others. "It is true that I have not sought for opportunities of being alone with you," she said. "I am now quite ready to explain why, though I think you must have some idea of what I felt." Winifred did not at once reply. She was again staring out of the window, and again a feeling of irritation came over her. Did _every_ side of the house look out on that detestable lower terrace? "I am quite ready for as long a talk as you like," she said. "I daresay you have felt a little shaken in me, but--I think I can make you understand me." And she looked up in Hertha's face so frankly, that again--and she was glad of it--the conviction of Winifred's honesty of intention and absence of cunning or calculation returned to Miss Norreys almost as at first. "Shall we go out for our talk?" Hertha said. "It is a lovely fresh morning, and I have just a little--headache of a kind. At least, I did not sleep well." "No, I remember: you did not look like yourself when you came down to breakfast," said Winifred, with sudden compunction. "And I am keeping you standing about. Are you sure it won't tire you? After all, we shall have plenty of time for talking in the future, I hope." Hertha shook her head.