face to face. She had been wandering along the path with eyes fixed
upon the ground, when her name was sharply called, and they two were
close to each other. Hamel had a friend with him, and it seemed to
Lucy at once, that she could only bow to him, only mutter something,
and then pass on. How can a girl stand and speak to a gentleman in
public, especially when that gentleman has a friend with him? She
tried to look pleasant, bowed, smiled, muttered something, and was
passing on. But he was not minded to lose her thus immediately. "Miss
Dormer," he said, "I have seen your sister at Rome. May I not say a
word about her?"

Why should he not say a word about Ayala? In a minute he had left
his friend, and was walking back along the path with Lucy. There was
not much that he had to say about Ayala. He had seen Ayala and the
Tringles, and did manage to let it escape him that Lady Tringle
had not been very gracious to himself when once, in public, he had
claimed acquaintance with Ayala. But at that he simply smiled. Then
he had asked of Lucy where she lived. "With my uncle, Mr. Dosett,"
said Lucy, "at Kingsbury Crescent." Then, when he asked whether he
might call, Lucy, with many blushes, had said that her aunt did not
receive many visitors,--that her uncle's house was different from
what her father's had been.

"Shall I not see you at all, then?" he asked.

She did not like to ask him after his own purposes of life, whether
he was now a resident in London, or whether he intended to return to
Rome. She was covered with bashfulness, and dreaded to seem even to
be interested in his affairs. "Oh, yes," she said; "perhaps we may
meet some day."

"Here?" he asked.

"Oh, no; not here! It was only an accident." As she said this she
determined that she must walk no more in Kensington Gardens. It would
be dreadful, indeed, were he to imagine that she would consent to
make an appointment with him. It immediately occurred to her that the
lions were about, and that she must shut herself up.

"I have thought of you every day since I have been back," he said,
"and I did not know where to hear of you. Now that we have met am I
to lose you again!" Lose her! What did he mean by losing her? She,
too, had found a friend,--she who had been so friendless! Would it
not be dreadful to her, also, to lose him? "Is there no place where I
may ask of you?"

"When Ayala is back, and they are in town, perhaps I shall sometimes
be at Lady Tringle'