hed
away before them--Mr. Probert had said it was in the grand style--and
he was determined to make her walk to the end. She felt sorry for his
ideas--she thought of them in the light of his striking energy; they
were an idle exercise of a force intrinsically fine, and she wanted to
protest, to let him know how truly it was a sad misuse of his free bold
spirit to count on her. She was not to be counted on; she was a vague
soft negative being who had never decided anything and never would, who
had not even the merit of knowing how to flirt and who only asked to
be let alone. She made him stop at last, telling him, while she leaned
against the parapet, that he walked too fast; and she looked back at
their companions, whom she expected to see, under pressure from Delia,
following at the highest speed. But they were not following; they still
stood together there, only looking, attentively enough, at the couple
who had left them. Delia would wave a parasol, beckon her back, send Mr.
Waterlow to bring her; Francie invoked from one moment to another some
such appeal as that. But no appeal came; none at least but the odd
spectacle, presently, of an agitation of the group, which, evidently
under Delia's direction, turned round and retraced its steps. Francie
guessed in a moment what was meant by that; it was the most definite
signal her sister could have given. It made her feel that Delia counted
on her, but to such a different end, just as poor Mr. Flack did, just as
Delia wished to persuade her that Mr. Probert did. The girl gave a sigh,
looking up with troubled eyes at her companion and at the figure of
herself as the subject of contending policies. Such a thankless bored
evasive little subject as she felt herself! What Delia had said in
turning away was--"Yes, I'm watching you, and I depend on you to finish
him up. Stay there with him, go off with him--I'll allow you half an
hour if necessary: only settle him once for all. It's very kind of me
to give you this chance, and in return for it I expect you to be able to
tell me this evening that he has his answer. Shut him up!"

Francie didn't in the least dislike Mr. Flack. Interested as I am in
presenting her favourably to the reader I am yet obliged as a veracious
historian to admit that she believed him as "bright" as her father had
originally pronounced him and as any young man she was likely to
meet. She had no other measure for distinction in young men but their
brightness