gentlemen and a lady, who had been interested spectators of the recent slight passage-at-arms. Speaking for myself, I felt decidedly uncomfortable, and it was some seconds before I ventured to look at our host. Yes, undoubtedly he had reddened a little (whether with anger or shame I could not guess), and was carefully filling Emma’s wine-glass.

[52]

“How very pretty your sister is!” she ventured with great magnanimity, endeavoring to take the rough edge off our thoughts. “I never saw a more delicate profile! She is a little like Lady Hildegarde.”

“Yes, she resembles my mother a good deal in many ways, and, being her only daughter, she has been a bit spoiled—always wants her own way, as you may see.”

“And now, Mr. Somers,” continued [53]Emma, “you will not make a stranger of me, nor allow me to accept any little arrangements your sister has made. You must postpone our trip. You know you can take us up the river any time!”

[53]

But to this suggestion he would not listen, and displayed a will fully as robust as his relative’s. In fact, he became almost angry at last, and Emma was compelled to succumb.

We accordingly spent a delightful, never-to-be-forgotten afternoon on the river, rowed here and there, as fancy dictated, by two stalwart boatmen. Mr. Somers, in a sailor hat and flannels, occasionally took an oar himself, and even gave me a lesson. A dainty luncheon had been provided, which we discussed under cool green branches, up a deliciously sequestered backwater; then followed the row down to Taplow, and our tea at [54]the inn: in fact, every item of the program was conscientiously carried out; and during that long summer’s day, in the intimacy of picnicking and boating, Mr. Somers and I made extraordinary strides in advancing our acquaintance.

[54]

We parted reluctantly at Paddington Station, full of plans for the morrow. We were to lunch with Mr. Somers again, and accompany him to a very private view of most lovely Indian paintings. Emma struggled hard against this second encroachment on his time, and struggled as vainly as any kid in the folds of a boa constrictor!

“Of course,” he said, half playfully, “if she had something better on hand, and was already tired of his society——”

And what could she answer? She could only 

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