he
had asked certainly covered very official matters; far more official--
even delicate--at that juncture than his light and ready answer should
have led his questioner to believe. Equally, as a matter of fact, she
was not deceived by its lightness and readiness for one moment. But
before he could frame a second answer Thornhill came to the rescue.

"What should there be of the `latest,' child?" he said, dropping a
sinewy sun-browned hand caressingly upon her long slim, and yet also
sun-browned one. "You shouldn't rush Mr Elvesdon in his official
capacity you know. It isn't playing the game. Besides, it's a sort of
`day of rest' remember, so we mustn't talk shop."

"Ah-ah-ah! That's all very well," she answered, with a laugh, but not
wholly a mirthful one. "If you two were alone together you'd be talking
no end of that very kind of shop. I know."

Elvesdon had quite recovered his self-possession. His official
susceptibilities were somewhat ruffled by the remark. It was not a
question thoughtlessly put by a mere thoughtless girl. This was nothing
of the kind, but a woman, with infinite capacity for thought. The
question was nothing, but the manner in which the answer had been taken
argued something of petulance, even obstinacy. Now the latter is not an
attractive quality in the other sex, he decided, even less, if possible,
than in his own.

Then he mentally damned himself for a suspicious and most
ill-conditioned curmudgeon, an official prig. This girl with the
thoughtful eyes, and quick, bright, intelligent mind, had asked him a
mere harmless question--only for information, for she was interested in
everything; not out of motives of curiosity--and lo, he had shrunk into
his official shell, and had more than half snubbed her; snubbed her by
implication at any rate. But--how she puzzled him. He had seen her but
once before, but he had thought of her a good many more times than that.
She was so totally unlike any other girl he had ever seen in his life.

"Have you been drawing much lately, Miss Thornhill?" he said,
interestedly, as though to make up for his former answer. But the
remark had just the opposite effect. He was `talking down to' her now,
Edala was thinking. Drawing, painting, singing--those were interests
enough for a girl. She must not raise her eyes to weightier and more
human matters. But her nature was an intensely self-concentrated one,
and self-controlled.

"Oh, yes," she answ