don't like
your looks at all; yet here we are, enjoying beautiful autumn weather,
Mr Lawford, why not make use of it?'

'Oh yes,' said Lawford, 'I do. I have been making tremendous use of it.'

Her eyelid flickered at his candid glance. 'And does your business
permit of much walking?'

'Well, I've been malingering these last few days idling at home; but I
am usually more or less my own man, Miss Sinnet. I walk a little.'

'H'm, but not much in my direction, Mr Lawford?' she quizzed him.

'All horrible indolence, Miss Sinnet. But I often--often think of you;
and especially just lately.'

'Well, now,' she wriggled round her head to get a better view of him
rather stiffly seated on his chair, 'that's very peculiar; because I too
have been thinking lately a great deal of you. And yet--I fancy I
shall succeed in mystifying you presently--not precisely of you, but of
somebody else!'

'You do mystify me--"somebody else"!' he replied gallantly. 'And that is
the story, I suppose?'

'That's the story,' repeated Miss Sinnet with some little triumph. 'Now,
let me see; it was on Saturday last--yes, Saturday evening; a wonderful
sunset; Bewley Heath.'

'Oh yes; my daughter's favourite walk.'

'And your daughter's age now?'

'She's nearly sixteen; Alice, you know.'

'Ah, yes, Alice; to be sure. It is a beautiful walk, and if fine, I
generally take mine there too. It's near; there's shade; it's very
little frequented; and I can wander and muse undisturbed. And that
I think is pretty well all that an old woman like me is fit for, Mr
Lawford. "Nearly sixteen!" Is it possible? Dear, dear me? But let me get
on. On my way home from the Heath, you may be aware, before one reaches
the road again, there's a somewhat steep ascent. I haven't the strength
I had, and whether I'm fatigued or not, I have always made it a rule to
rest awhile on a most convenient little seat at the summit, admire the
view--what I can see of it--and then make my way quietly, quietly home.
On Saturday, however, and it most rarely occurs--once, I remember, when
a very civil nursemaid was sitting with two charmingly behaved little
children in the sunshine, and I heard they were my old friend Major
Loder's son's children--on Saturday, as I was saying, my own particular
little haunt was already occupied.' She glanced back at him from out of
her thoughts, as it were. 'By a gentleman. I say, gentleman; though I
must confess that his conduct--perhaps, too, a lit