too," she was obliged to admit, "though best when the
people concerned don't see the incongruity; but I don't really care
either way, whether things are incongruous or suitable, I enjoy both,
and should never interfere so long as they don't upset my concerns and
the end in view."

He looked at her curiously; again it seemed he was at fault; she was
not merely a wayward girl in revolt against convention, saying what
she deemed daring for the sake of saying it, and in the effort to be
original. She was not posing as a Bohemian any more than she was truly
one.

"Have you usually an end in view?" he asked.

"Have not you?" she answered, turning on him for a moment eyes that
Joost had described as "eating up what they looked at." "Of course,"
she said, looking away again, "it is quite natural, and very
possible, that you are here for no purpose, and I am here for no
purpose too; you might quite well have come to this little town for
amusement, and I have come for the money I might earn as a companion.
Or you might have drifted here by accident, as I might, without any
special reason--" She stopped as she spoke; they were fast approaching
the first house of the village now, and she held out her hand for the
basket. "I will take it," she said; "I have a very short distance to
go; thank you so much."

"Let me carry it the rest of the way," he insisted; "I am going
through the village; we may as well go the rest of the way together, I
want you to tell me--"

But Julia did not tell him anything, except that her way was by the
footpath which turned off to the right. "I could not think of
troubling you further," she said. "Thank you."

She put her hand on the basket, so that he was obliged to yield it;
then, with another word of thanks, she said "good-evening," and
started by the path.

For a moment he looked after her, annoyed and interested against his
will; of course, she meant nothing by her words about his purpose and
her own, still it gave him food for reflection about her, and the
apparent incongruity of her present surroundings. On the whole, he was
glad he had met her, partly for the entertainment she had given, and
partly for the opportunity he had had to apologise.

An apology was due to her for the affair of last winter, he felt it;
though, at the same time, he could not hold himself much to blame in
the matter. He had gone to Marbridge to see into his young cousin's
affairs at the request of the boy's widowe