"But not if she doesn't ask you?"

"But why not? There is _no harm_ in it," said the girl, persistently.

"No, no; but if you had lived as long as I, you would know that people
_always_ try and interfere with anything pleasant. I should so like to
take this walk with you every week, Bluebell."

Bluebell looked down; she was vaguely flattered by his caring to repeat
the walk which she thought must be so unimportant to him,--it would be
something to look forward to, for she _had_ enjoyed it, though she could
not tell why.

"But, Captain Du Meresq--" she began.

"Call me Bertie, when we are alone," said he.

They had entered on the street, Bluebell was wavering, but the last
sentence, "when we are alone," struck her ear unpleasantly.

"How can I?" said she; "I do not know you well enough."

"Walk with me sometimes," whispered Bertie, "and that reason will
disappear, but don't say a word about it to-day, there's a dear girl.
I had better make tracks for the club; you will be at home in five
minutes,"--and Du Meresq ceremoniously lifted his cap, for many eyes were
about, and disappeared down another block.

Bluebell on finding herself alone, went through a disagreeable reaction.