They passed through the gates; he, at a distance of a dozen yards, still followed. There was no risk of detection; indeed he was doing no harm; even a grocer might observe, from afar off, a girl walking with her mother. But, after strolling for a quarter of an hour, they paused beside a bench, and there seated themselves. Mrs. Cross seemed to be complaining of something; Bertha seemed to soothe her. When he was near enough to be aware of this Will saw that he was too near. He turned abruptly on his heels, and--stood face to face with Norbert Franks. "Hallo!" exclaimed the painter, with an air of embarrassment. "I thought that was your back!" "Your engagement was here?" asked Will bluntly, referring to the other's telegram of excuse. "Yes. I was obliged to--" He broke off, his eyes fixed on the figures of Bertha and her mother. "You were obliged--?" "You see the ladies there," said Franks in a lower voice, "there, on the seat? It's Mrs. Cross and her daughter--you remember the Crosses? I called to see them yesterday, and only Mrs. Cross was at home, and--the fact is, I as good as promised to meet them here, if it was fine." "Very well," replied Warburton carelessly, "I won't keep you." "Go, but--" Franks was in great confusion. He looked this way and that, as if seeking for an escape. As Will began to move away, he kept at his side. "Look here, Warburton, let me introduce you to them. They're very nice people; I'm sure you'd like them; do let me--" "Thank you, no. I don't want any new acquaintances." "Why? Come along old man," urged the other. "You're getting too grumpy; you live too much alone. Just to please me--" "No!" answered Will, resolutely, walking on. "Very well--just as you like. But, I say, should I find you at home this evening? Say, nine o'clock. I particularly want to have a talk." "Good. I'll be there," replied Will, and so, with knitted brows strode away. Very punctually did the visitor arrive that evening. He entered the room with that same look of embarrassment which he had worn during the brief colloquy at Kew; he shook hands awkwardly, and, as he seated himself, talked about the fall of temperature since sunset, which made a fire agreeable. Warburton, ashamed of the sullenness he could not overcome, rolled this way and that in his chair, holding the poker and making lunges with it at a piece of coal which would not break. "That was a lucky chance," began Franks at length, "our meeting this afternoon." "Lucky? Why?" "Because it has given me the courage to speak to you about something. Queerest chance I ever knew that you should be there close by the Crosses." "Did they ask who I was?" inquired Warburton after a violent lunge with the poker, which sent pieces of coal flying into the room.