She looked up for a moment, surprised at his sudden vehemence. There was no doubt about his being in earnest. She continued her work without looking at him, but her tone when she spoke was more friendly. “This will take me a little longer than I thought to finish properly,” she said. “I wonder might I come down early to-morrow morning? What time do you leave for the City?” “Not until afternoon, at any rate,” he said. “Come to-morrow, certainly--whenever you like. You needn't be afraid of that rabble. I'll see you don't have to go near them.” “You must please not make any difference or alter your arrangements on my account,” she said. “I am quite used to meeting all sorts of people in my profession, and I don't object to it in the least. Won't you go now? I think that that was your dinner-bell.” He hesitated, obviously embarrassed but determined. “There is one question,” he said, “which I should very much like to ask you. It will sound impertinent. I don't mean it so. I can't explain exactly why I want to know, but I have a reason.” “Ask it by all means,” she said. “I'll promise that I'll answer it if I can.” “You say that you are--a journalist. Have you taken it up for a pastime, or--to earn money?” “To earn money by all means,” she answered, laughing. “I like the work, but I shouldn't care for it half so much if I didn't make my living at it. Did you think that I was an amateur?” “I didn't know,” he answered slowly. “Thank you. You will come to-morrow?” “Of course! Good evening.” “Good evening.” Trent lifted his hat, and turned away unwillingly towards the house, full of a sense that something wonderful had happened to him. He was absent-minded, but he stopped to pat a little dog whose attentions he usually ignored, and he picked a creamy-white rose as he crossed the lawn and wondered why it should remind him of her. CHAPTER X Trent's appearance upon the lawn was greeted with a shout of enthusiasm. The young lady in blue executed a pas seut, and came across to him on her toes, and the girl with the yellow hair, although sulky, gave him to understand by a sidelong glance that her favour was not permanently withdrawn. They neither of them noticed the somewhat ominous air of civility with which he received their greetings, or the contempt in his eyes as he looked them silently over. “Where are the lost tribe?” he inquired, as the girls, one on either side, escorted him to the house. They received his witticism with a piercing shriek of laughter. “Mamma and her rag of a daughter are in the drawing room,” explained Miss Montressor--the young lady with fluffy hair who dressed in blue and could dance. “Such a joke, General! They don't approve of us! Mamma says that she shall have to take her Julie away if we remain. We are not fit associates for her. Rich, isn't it! The old chap's screwing up his courage now with brandy and soda to tell you so!”