'Not now.'

'Mr. Egremont wishes to go for a walk. Couldn't you come?'

'Please beg Mr. Egremont to excuse me. I am tired after yesterday,
dear.'

When her cousin had withdrawn Paula went to the window. In a few
minutes she saw Egremont and Annabel go forth and stroll from the
garden towards the lake. Then she reseated herself, and sat biting
her pen.

The two walked lingeringly by the water's edge. They spoke of
trifles. When they were some distance from the house, Egremont said:

'So you see I have at last found my work. If you thought of me at
all, I dare say my life seemed to you a very useless one, and little
likely to lead to anything.'

'No, I had not that thought, Mr. Egremont,' she answered simply. 'I
felt sure that you were preparing yourself for something worthy.'

'I hope that is the meaning of these years that have gone so
quickly. But it was not conscious preparation. It has often seemed
to me that in travelling and gaining experience I was doing all that
life demanded of me. Few men can be more disposed to idle dreaming
than I am. And even now I keep asking myself whether this, too, is
only a moment of idealism, which will go by and leave me with less
practical energy than ever. Every such project undertaken and
abandoned is a weight upon a man's will. If I fail in perseverance