gh it may seem, Winterbourne was vexed that the young girl, in
joining her amoroso, should not appear more impatient of his own
company, and he was vexed because of his inclination. It was impossible
to regard her as a perfectly well-conducted young lady; she was wanting
in a certain indispensable delicacy. It would therefore simplify matters
greatly to be able to treat her as the object of one of those sentiments
which are called by romancers "lawless passions." That she should seem
to wish to get rid of him would help him to think more lightly of her,
and to be able to think more lightly of her would make her much less
perplexing. But Daisy, on this occasion, continued to present herself as
an inscrutable combination of audacity and innocence.

She had been walking some quarter of an hour, attended by her two
cavaliers, and responding in a tone of very childish gaiety, as it
seemed to Winterbourne, to the pretty speeches of Mr. Giovanelli, when
a carriage that had detached itself from the revolving train drew up
beside the path. At the same moment Winterbourne perceived that his
friend Mrs. Walker--the lady whose house he had lately left--was seated
in the vehicle and was beckoning to him. Leaving Miss Miller's side,
he hastened to obey her summons. Mrs. Walker was flushed; she wore an
excited air. "It is really too dreadful," she said. "That girl must not
do this sort of thing. She must not walk here with you two men. Fifty
people have noticed her."

Winterbourne raised his eyebrows. "I think it's a pity to make too much
fuss about it."

"It's a pity to let the girl ruin herself!"

"She is very innocent," said Winterbourne.

"She's very crazy!" cried Mrs. Walker. "Did you ever see anything so
imbecile as her mother? After you had all left me just now, I could not
sit still for thinking of it. It seemed too pitiful, not even to attempt
to save her. I ordered the carriage and put on my bonnet, and came here
as quickly as possible. Thank Heaven I have found you!"

"What do you propose to do with us?" asked Winterbourne, smiling.

"To ask her to get in, to drive her about here for half an hour, so that
the world may see she is not running absolutely wild, and then to take
her safely home."

"I don't think it's a very happy thought," said Winterbourne; "but you
can try."

Mrs. Walker tried. The young man went in pursuit of Miss Miller, who
had simply nodded and smiled at his interlocutor in the carriage and
had