d not
need to fear being seen by acquaintances; the sunshine was undisturbed
in the quiet street. The second time they met, he told her that he had
found out what her name was; and his efforts to pronounce it afforded
Ephie much amusement. Their conversation was always of the same nature,
half banter, half earnest. Ephie, who had rapidly recovered her
assurance, invariably began in her archest manner, and it became his
special pleasure to reduce her, little by little, to a crimson silence.

But one day, about a fortnight later, she came upon him at a different
hour, when he was not expecting to see her. He was strolling up and
down in front of the Conservatorium, waiting for Louise, who might
appear at any moment. Ephie had been restless all the morning, and had
finally made an excuse to go out: her steps naturally carried her to
the Conservatorium, where she proposed to study the notice-board, on
the chance of seeing Schilsky. When she caught sight of him, her eyes
brightened; she greeted him with an inviting smile, and a saucy remark.
But Schilsky did not take up her tone; he cut her words short.

"What are you doing here to-day?" he asked with a frown of displeasure,
meanwhile keeping a watchful eye on the inner staircase--visible
through the glass doors--down which Louise would come. "I haven't a
moment to spare."

Mortally offended by his manner, Ephie drew back her extended hand, and
giving him a look of surprise and resentment, was about to pass him by
without a further word. But this was more than Schilsky could bear; he
put out his hand to stop her, always, though, with one eye on the door.

"Now, don't be cross, little girl," he begged impatiently. "It's not my
fault--upon my word it isn't. I wasn't expecting to see you to-day--you
know that. Look here, tell me--this sort of thing is so
unsatisfactory--is there no other place I could see you? What do you do
with yourself all day? Come, answer me, don't be angry."

Ephie melted. "Come and visit us on Sunday afternoon," she said. "We
are always at home then."

He laughed rudely, and took no notice of her words. "Come, think of
something--quick!" he said.

He was on tenterhooks to be gone, and showed it. Ephie grew flustered,
and though she racked her brains, could make no further suggestion.

"Oh well, if you can't, you know," he said crossly, and loosened his
hold of her arm.

Then, at the last moment, she had a flash of inspiration; she
remembered h