Well, she would not stay any longer. She would just go away, and come
back ever so much later, and let him have a taste of waiting. She had
had her share, she told herself, as she almost ran from the spot. She
stopped suddenly. But suppose he did _not_ wait? She went slowly back.

She sat down again, schooled herself to patience.

What an idiot she had been! Like any school-girl. Of course he had
never meant to come. Why should he? That page in her diary called out
to her to come home and burn it. Care for him indeed! Not she! Why she
hadn't exchanged ten words with the man!

"But I knew it was all nonsense when I wrote it," she said. "I only
just put it down to see what it would look like."

* * * * *

Mr. Eustace Vernon roused himself, and yawned.

"It's got to be done, I suppose. Buck up,--you'll feel better after
your bath! Jove! Seven o'clock. Will she have waited? She's a keen
player if she has. It's just worth trying, I suppose."

The church clock struck the half-hour as he turned into the wood.
Something palely violet came towards him.

"So you _are_ here," he said. "Where's the pink frock?"

"It's--it's going to the wash," said a stiff and stifled voice. "I'm