used them all. She had lost her interest in
Browning.

He thought, "She is too tired to talk," and left half an hour sooner than
he had intended.

She thought, "He is offended. Or else--he thinks me flighty."

And that was all.

CHAPTER VII

Under a Blue Moon

It was early on another Saturday evening, a fortnight after that
disastrous one, and Miss Quincey was taking the air in Primrose Hill
Park. She was walking to keep herself warm, for the breeze was brisk and
cool. There was a little stir and flutter in the trees and a little stir
and flutter in her heart, for she had caught sight of Dr. Cautley in the
distance. He was coming round the corner of one of the intersecting
walks, coming at a frantic pace, with the tails of his frock-coat waving
in the wind.

He pulled himself up as he neared her and held out a friendly hand.

"That's right, Miss Quincey. I'm delighted to see you out. You really are
getting strong again, aren't you?"

"Yes, thank you--very well, very strong."

Was it her fancy, or did his manner imply that he wanted to sink that
humiliating episode of the tea-party and begin again where they had left
off? It might be so; his courtesy was so infinitely subtle. He had
actually turned and was walking her way now.

"And how is _Sordello?_" he asked, the tone of his inquiry suggesting
that there was something seriously the matter with _Sordello_.

"Getting on. Only fifty-six pages more."

"You _are_ advancing, Miss Quincey--gaining on him by leaps and bounds.
You're not overdoing it, I hope?"

"Oh no, I read a little in the evenings--I have to keep up to the
standard of the staff. Indeed," she added, turning with a sudden suicidal
panic, "I ought to be at home and working now."

"What? On a half-holiday? It _is_ a half-holiday?"

"For some people--not for me."

His eyes--she could not be mistaken--were taking her in as they had done
before.

"And why not for you? Do you know, you're looking horribly tired. Suppose
we sit down a bit."

Miss Quincey admitted that it would be very nice.

"Hadn't you better put your cape on--the wind's changing."

She obeyed him.

"That's hardly a thick enough wrap for this weather, is it?"

She assured him it was very warm, very comfortable.

"Do you know what I would like to do with you, Miss Quincey?"

"No."

"I should like to pack you off somewhere--anywhere--for another three
months' holiday."

"Another three months! What would my