before was still perplexing her, and unblinkingly she was searching
my face. Hitherto her directness, her frankness of speech and use of
words, had amused me, and I had permitted, perhaps, too great an
exercise of her gift of comment; but applied personally it was a
different matter.

"We'll go to the corner and turn there," I said. "That will be the
nearest way home."

"But don't you want to see who she is?" Scarborough Square customs
were those most familiar to Bettina, and they exacted understanding
of doubtful situations. "Don't you want to see what--what she looks
like?"

"Why should I? Mr. Thorne knows many people I do not know." I moved
toward the corner. "Come on. It's getting late."

"Gentlemen like him don't know girls like her. She lives down here
somewhere, and he lives where you used to live. He couldn't be sweet
on her, because--because he couldn't." She caught up with me. "He's
yours, ain't he, Miss Danny? You'd better tell him--"

I hated myself for looking across the street, but as I hurried on my
eyes were following Selwyn and the girl, and when I saw the latter
stop and bury her face in her hands, saw Selwyn say something to her,
saw him turn in one direction and she in another, I, too, stopped;
for a moment was unable to move.

We had reached the corner as Selwyn left the opposite one and came
toward us. Head down, as if deeply thinking, he did not look up