hardly less keen. How terribly she grieved! she must have cared for
him; bang! went the pebbles again.

There was a rustle behind the syringa-bush. Geoffrey looked up and
saw Vesta Blyth standing before him.

He could not run away. He must not look at her professionally.
Despair imparted to his countenance a look of stony vacuity which sat
oddly on it.

The girl looked at him, and it seemed as if the shadow of a smile
looked out of her shadowy eyes. "I thought you might be here, Doctor
Strong," she said, quietly. "I am coming in to tea to-night. I am
entirely myself again, I assure you--and first I wished--I want to
apologise to you for my absurd behaviour the other day."

"Please don't!" said Geoffrey.

"I must; I have to. I am weak, you see, and--I lost hold of myself,
that was all. It was purely hysterical, as you of course saw. I have
had--a great trouble. Perhaps my aunts may have told you."

Good God! she wasn't going to talk about it? Geoffrey thought a
subterranean dungeon would be a pleasant place.

"I--yes!" he admitted, feeling the red curling around his ears.
"Miss Vesta did say something--it's an infernal shame! I wish I
could tell you how sorry I am."

"Thank you!" said the girl; and a rich note thrilled in her voice.