"But I shall be in England then."

"England is not very far off; and I'm a wanderer, you know."

"Well," she said with faint confusion, "unless you hurry you will miss
your train. Good-by, and good fortune!"

He took the hand she gave him and held it a moment.

"If your last wish is ever realized, I shall come to thank you, even in
England."

He turned and went out with hurried steps, wondering what had led him
to break through the reserve he had prudently determined to maintain.
What he had said might mean nothing, but it might mean much. He had
seen Millicent Graham for a few minutes in her father's house, and
afterward met her every day during the week spent in Montreal; but,
brief as their friendship had been, he had yielded to her charm. Had
he been free to seek her love, he would eagerly have done so; but he
was not free. He was an outcast, engaged in a desperate attempt to
repair his fortune. Miss Graham knew this. Perhaps she had taken his
remarks as a piece of sentimental gallantry; but something in her
manner suggested a doubt. Anyway, he had promised to show her the
flowers again some day, and he carefully placed them in his pocketbook.




CHAPTER VI