o
catch a certain effect of sky and water."

That was all. And what exactly did it mean? Warburton's practical
knowledge of women did not carry him very far, but he was wont to
theorise at large on the subject, and in this instance it seemed to him
that one of his favourite generalities found neat application. Miss
Elvan had in a high degree the feminine characteristic of not knowing
her own mind. Finding herself without substantial means, she of course
meant to marry, and it was natural that she should think of marrying
Norbert Franks; yet she could not feel at all sure that she wished to
do so; neither was she perfectly certain that Franks would again offer
her the choice. In this state of doubt she inclined to cultivate the
acquaintance of Franks' intimate friend, knowing that she might thus,
very probably, gather hints as to the artist's state of mind, and, if
it seemed good to her, could indirectly convey to him a suggestion of
her own. Warburton concluded, then, that he was simply being made use
of by this typical young lady. That point settled, he willingly lent
himself to her device, for he desired nothing better than to see Franks
lured back to the old allegiance, and away from the house at Walham
Green. So, before going to bed, he posted a reply to Miss Elvan's
letter, saying that he should much like a talk with her about the
artistic possibilities of obscure London, and that he would walk next
day along the Battersea Embankment, with the hope of meeting her.

And thus it came to pass. Through the morning there were showers, but
about noon a breeze swept the sky fair, and softly glowing summer
reigned over the rest of the day. In his mood of hopefulness, Warburton
had no scruple about abandoning the shop at tea-time; he did not even
trouble himself to invent a decorous excuse, but told Allchin plainly
that he thought he would have a walk. His henchman, who of late had
always seemed rather pleased than otherwise when Warburton absented
himself, loudly approved the idea.

"Don't you 'urry back, sir. There'll be no business as I can't manage.
Don't you think of 'urrying. The air'll do you good."

As he walked away, Will said to himself that no doubt Allchin would
only be too glad of a chance of managing the business independently,
and that perhaps he hoped for the voluntary retirement of Mr. Jollyman
one of these days. Indeed, things were likely to take that course. And
Allchin was a good, honest fellow, whom