dmayne sitting
by the ditch mending hers. That was the time when he sat on the roadside
and told her all about himself--reserving only those points where his
life had touched Camilla's.

The week after he walked the road again, and this time he overtook Miss
Redmayne, who was resolutely wheeling her bicycle back in the way by
which she had come.

"Let me wheel it for you," he said. "Whither bound?"

"I'm going back to Rochester," she said. "I generally ride over to see
my aunts at Felsenden on Saturdays, but I fear I must give it up, or go
by train; this road isn't safe."

"Not safe?" he said with an agitation which could not escape her notice.

"Not safe," she repeated. "Mr Brent, there is a very malicious person in
this part of the country--a perfectly dreadful person."

"What do you mean?" he managed to ask.

"These three Saturdays I have come along this road; each time I have had
a puncture. And each time I have found embedded in my tyre the evidence
of some one's malice. This is one piece of evidence." She held out her
ungloved hand. On its pink palm lay a good sized tin-tack. "Once might
be accident; twice a coincidence; three times is too much. The road's
impossible."

"Do you think some one did it on purpose?"

"I know it," she said calmly.

Then he grew desperate.

"Try to forgive me," he said. "I was so lonely, and I wanted so
much----"

She turned wide eyes on him.

"You!" she cried, and began to laugh.

Her laughter was very pretty, he thought.

"Then you didn't know it was me?" said the Greek student.

"You!" she said again. "And has it amused you--to see all these poor
people in difficulties, and to know that you've spoilt their poor little
holiday for them--and three times, too."

"I never thought about _them_," he said; "it was you I wanted to see.
Try to forgive me; you don't know how much I wanted you." Something in
his voice kept her silent. "And don't laugh," he went on. "I feel as if
I wanted nothing in the world but you. Let me come to see you--let me
try to make you care too."

"You're talking nonsense," she said, for he stopped on a note that
demanded an answer. "Why, you told Camilla----"

"Yes--but you--but I meant _you_. I thought I cared about her once--but
I never cared really with all my heart and soul for any one but you."

She looked at him calmly and earnestly.

"I'm going to forget all this," she said; "but I like you very much, and
if you want to come and se