"You could not say that of my friend," said Brian, musingly, "I
wish you could meet him."

They had reached the entrance to Guilford Terrace, Raeburn and
Charles Osmond overtook them, and the conversation ended abruptly.
Perhaps because Erica had made no answer to the last remark, and
was conscious of a touch of malice in her former speech, she put a
little additional warmth into her farewell. At any rate, there was
that which touched Brian's very heart in the frank innocence of her
hand clasp, in the sweet yet questioning eyes that were raised to
his.

He turned away, happier and yet sadder than he had ever been in his
life. Not a word passed between him and his father as they crossed
the square, but when they reached home they instinctively drew
together over the study fire. There was a long silence even then,
broken at last by Charles Osmond.

"Well, my son?" he said.

"I cannot see how I can be of the least use to her," said Brian,
abruptly, as if his father had been following the whole of his
train of thought, which, indeed, to a certain extent, he had.

"Was this afternoon your first meeting?"


"Our first speaking. I have seen her many times, but only today
realized what she is."