Minor?'

Retaking of a sudden her demureness, slipping away to her
first position on the rock, with hands busy about the pink
flowers, Wych Hazel answered, as once before--

'Do not let me detain you--do not wait for me, Mr. Rollo.'

'Shall I consider myself dismissed? and send some more
fortunate friend to help you out of your difficulty?'

'I am not in any difficulty, thank you.'

'Only you don't know your way,' he said, with perhaps a little
amusement, though it hardly appeared. 'Is it true that you
will not give me the honour of guiding you?'

'In the first place,' said Miss Hazel, wreathing her pink
flowers with quick fingers, 'I know the way by which I came,
perfectly. In the second place, I never submit voluntarily to
anybody's guidance.'

'Will you excuse me for correcting myself. I meant, in "not
knowing your way," merely the way in which you are to _go_.'

'Do you know it?'

'If you suffer my guidance--undoubtedly.'

'Ah!--if. In that case so do I. But I "suffered" so much on the