on and its rebuff; but as his face came
more clearly into view a look of bewilderment overspread her features.
She started, and involuntarily bent her head in salutation.

The next moment Rupert was by her side, and her hand lay in his. He had
extended his own, and hers had come to meet it without hesitation. For
a long moment they looked at one another in silence, then he spoke in
commonplace greeting:

"Good afternoon. Can I get _you_ some tea?"

She shook her head, but at the same time took a slow step forward, which
had the effect of turning the refusal into an invitation.

"I'm so tired; I don't want anything, but a seat; away from that band!"

"Come this way. There's a summer-house at the end of the shrubbery that
is probably empty. No one knows of it but the intimates. You can rest
there quietly."

He spoke eagerly, walking beside her, eager to lead her away from the
crowd, and have her to himself. The group of visitors among whom she
had been standing stared after them curiously, and one elderly, stout
woman took a tentative step forward, as if about to follow, thought
better of it, and stood aside. Dempster had a fleeting suspicion of
sharp eyes scanning his face; then he forgot everything but his
companion. He was conscious of every movement, of every curve of the
slim, graceful figure, but no word was spoken until they seated
themselves within the shelter of the arbour, and faced each other across
its narrow span. Was it the shadow of the trailing branches which made
her face so white? She narrowed her eyes, as if searching in the
store-room of memory, and a faint smile curved her lips. Once again the
pain cramped Rupert's heart as he realised that smiles came but hardly
to her lips. A note of interrogation quickened her voice:

"I know you so well... We have met before?"

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, chin cupped between finger and
thumb, tired eyes aglow with life.

"Yes!"

"When? Where?"

"Always!" he told her. "In our dreams."

She shrank at that, edging back into her corner, holding out a quick,
protesting hand. "No! Please! Don't make fun... We have met on more
substantial ground. I know your face. I knew it the moment you turned.
We have met years ago, and have forgotten--"

Rupert sat motionless, his eyes riveted upon her face. "Think!" he
urged softly. "Think! Ask your own heart, and let it answer. It spoke
clearly enough a minute ago. You have _always