Paula moved restlessly about the room for a few minutes; then from
the door she gave a 'good-night,' and disappeared without further
ceremony.

The two men came in very shortly. Egremont entered the drawing-room
alone, and began to turn over books on the table. Then Annabel rose.

'It promises for another fine day to-morrow,' she said. 'I must get
father away for a ramble. Do you think he looks well?'

'Better than he did last autumn, I think.'

'I must go and say good-night to him. Will you come to the study?'

He followed in silence, and Annabel took her leave of both.

The morning broke clear. It was decided to spend the greater part of
the day on the hills. Paula rode; the others drove to a point whence
their ramble was to begin. Annabel enjoyed walking. Very soon her
being seemed to set itself to more spirited music; the veil of
reflection fell from her face, and she began to talk
light-heartedly.

Paula behaved with singularity. At breakfast she had been very
silent, a most unusual thing, and during the day she kept an air of
reserve, a sort of dignity which was amusing. Mr. Newthorpe walked
beside her pony, and adapted himself to her favourite conversation,
which was always of the town and Society.

Once Annabel came up with a spray of mountain saxifrage.