"Impossible! He said he was coming in a week's time."

Mr. Lashmar would not have cared to correct this statement, and
remark was rendered superfluous by the opening of the door and the
appearance of Dyce himself.

"Afraid I'm taking you rather at unawares," said the young man, in a
suave Oxford voice. "Unexpectedly I found myself free--"

His eyes fell upon Constance Bride, and for a moment he was mute;
then he stepped towards her, and, with an air of peculiar frankness,
of comrade-like understanding, extended his hand.

"How do you do, Miss Connie! Delighted to find you here--Mother,
glad to see you." Re touched Mrs. Lashmar's forehead with his lips.
"Well, father? Uncommonly pleasant to be at the vicarage again!"

Miss Bride had stood up, and was now advancing towards the hostess.

"You _must_ go?" said Mrs. Lashmar, with her most agreeable smile.

"What, going?" exclaimed Dyce. "Why? Are you staying in the
village?"

"No. I must catch a train."

"What train?"

"'The six forty-five."