; a weight
was on her tongue.

'A country ramble of an hour or two,' pursued the voice, which itself
had become languorous. 'Surely you are sometimes alone? It isn't
necessary to give a detailed account of your time?'

She answered impatiently. 'Of course not.' In this moment her thoughts
had turned to Luckworth Crewe, and she was asking herself why this
invitation of Tarrant's affected her so very differently from anything
she had felt when Crewe begged her to meet him in London. With him
she could go anywhere, enjoying a genuine independence, a complete
self-confidence, thinking her unconventional behaviour merely good fun.
Tarrant's proposal startled her. She was not mistress of the situation,
as when trifling with Crewe. A sense of peril caused her heart to beat
quickly.

'This afternoon, then,' the voice was murmuring.

She answered mechanically. 'It's going to rain, I think.'

'I think not. But, if so, to-morrow.'

'To-morrow is Sunday.'

'Yes. Monday, then.'

Nancy heard him smother a laugh. She wished to look at him, but could
not.

'It won't rain,' he continued, still with the ease of one who speaks of
everyday matters. 'We shall see, at all events. Perhaps you will want to
change your book at the library.' A novel lay on her lap. 'We'll leave
it an open possibility--to meet there about three o'clock.'

Nancy pointed out to sea, and asked where the steamer just passing might
be bound for. Her companion readily turned to this subject.

The rain--she half hoped for it--did not come. By luncheon-time every
doubtful cloud had vanished. Before sitting down to table, she observed
the sky at the open window.

'Lovely weather!' sighed Mrs. Morgan behind her. 'But for you, dear
Nancy, I should have been dreaming and wishing--oh, how vainly!--in the
stifling town.'

'We'll have another drive this afternoon,' Nancy declared.

'Oh, how delightful! But pray, pray, not on our account--'

'Jessica,'--Nancy turned to her friend, who had just entered the
room,--'we'll have the carriage at three. And a better horse than last
time; I'll take good care of that. Pen, ink, and paper!' she cried
joyously. 'The note shall go round at once.'

'You're a magnificent sort of person,' said Jessica. 'Some day, no
doubt, you'll keep a carriage and pair of your own.'

'Shan't I, just! And drive you down to Burlington House, for your exams.
By-the-bye, does a female Bachelor of Arts lose her degree if she gets
married?'