idea that Vincy did more than admire her very mildly.

'Won't you let me take you there?' suggested Aylmer suddenly. He had
nothing on earth to do, and thought it would fill up the time. 'Yes!
I'll drive you there and show you the pictures. And then, wouldn't you
come and have lunch? I've got an appointment at two.'

She firmly declined lunch, but consented that he should drive her, and
they went.

Aylmer talked with the eagerness produced by his restless excitement
and she listened with interest, somewhat fascinated, as people always
were, with his warmth and vitality.

As they were driving along Oxford Street Edith, walking with Archie,
saw them clearly. She had been taking him on some mission of clothes.
(For the children only she went into shops.) He was talking with such
animation that he did not see her, to a pale young girl with bright red
hair. Edith knew the girl by sight, knew perfectly well that she was
Vincy's friend--there was a photograph of her at his rooms. Aylmer did
not see her. After a start she kept it to herself. She walked a few
steps, then got into a cab. She felt ill.

So Aylmer had never got her letter? He had been in London without
telling her. He had forgotten her. Perhaps he was deceiving her? And he
was making love obviously to that sickening, irritating red-haired fool
(so Edith thought of her), Vincy's silly, affected art-student.

When Edith went home she had a bad quarter of an hour. She never even
asked herself what right she had to mind so much; she only knew it