oice had brought before his mind's eye, Bertha Cross was passing,
with her mother. Probably they had not seen him. And even if they had,
if they had recognised him--did he flatter himself that the Crosses
would give any sign in public of knowing their grocer?

With his eyes on the graceful figure of Bertha, he slowly followed. The
ladies were crossing Kew Green; doubtless they would enter the Gardens
to spend the afternoon there. Would it not be pleasant to join them, to
walk by Bertha's side, to talk freely with her, forgetting the counter,
which always restrained their conversation? Bertha was nicely dressed,
though one saw that her clothes cost nothing. In the old days, if he
had noticed her at all she would have seemed to him rather a pretty
girl of the lower middle class, perhaps a little less insignificant
than her like; now she shone for him against a background of
"customers," the one in whom he saw a human being of his own kind, and
who, within the imposed limits, had given proof of admitting his
humanity. He saw her turn to look at her mother, and smile; a smile of
infinite kindness and good-humour. Involuntarily his own lips
responded; he walked on smiling--smiling.

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 confusio