Whatever may have been his intention when he left the studio, Jack did
not cross the park toward the District Railway station. He walked slowly
to the high-road, and then westward with brisker step. He struck down
through Gunnersbury, by way of Sutton Court, and came out at the river
close to the lower end of Strand-on-the-Green.

A girl was sitting on a bench near the shore, pensively watching the sun
drooping over the misty ramparts of Kew Bridge; she held a closed book
in one hand, and by her side lay a sketching-block and a box of colors.
She heard the young artist's footsteps, and glanced up. A lovely blush
suffused her countenance, and for an instant she was speechless. Then,
with less confusion, with the candor of an innocent and unconventional
nature, she said:

"I am so glad to see you, Mr. Vernon."

"That is kind of you," Jack replied, with a smile.

"Yes, I wanted to thank you--"

"Your father has written to me."

"But that is different. I wanted to thank you for myself."

"I wish I were deserving of such gratitude," said Jack, thinking that
the girl looked far more charming than when he had first seen her.

"Ah, don't say that. You know that you saved my life. I am a good
swimmer, but that morning my clothes seemed to drag me down."