a fairy pink and shape, and almost immediately she heard footsteps on
the grass and saw a man approaching with the orchid in his hand. She
recognized the man she had seen riding the black horse on the day she
arrived in Radstowe and her heart fluttered. This was romance, this,
she had time to think excitedly, must be preordained. But when he
handed her the flower with a polite, 'I think you dropped this,' she
wished he had chosen to keep the trophy. If she had had the happiness
of seeing him conceal it!

She said nervously, 'Oh, yes, thank you very much. I'd just missed
it,' and as he turned away she had at least the minor joy of seeing a
look of arrested interest in his eyes.

She sat there holding the frail and almost sacred branch. She supposed
she was in love; there was no other explanation of her feelings; and
what a marvellous sequence of events! If Mr. Batty had not given her
the orchids this romantic episode could not have happened. And she was
glad that the eyes of the stranger had not rested on her that first
day when she was wearing her shabby, her atrociously cut clothes. Fate
had been kind in allowing him to see her thus, in a black dress with a
broad white collar, a carefully careless bow, silk stockings covering
her matchless ankles and--she glanced down--shoes that did their best
to conceal the squareness of her feet.

She recognized her own absurdity, but she liked it: she Had leisure in
which to be absurd, she had nothing else to do, And romance, which had
seemed to be waiting for her outside Nelson Lodge, had now met her in
the open! She was not going to pass it by. This was, she knew, no more
than a precious secret, a little game she could play all by herself,
but it had suddenly coloured vividly a life which was already opening