"My dear, dear old Bertha! What a happiness to see you again! How
good of you to come! Isn't it a lovely place? And the nicest people.
You've heard me speak of Miss Anderton, of Bath. She is Mrs. Capron
--married half a year ago. And they're just going to Egypt for a
year, and--what do you think?--I'm going with them."

Rosamund's voice sunk and faltered. She stood holding Bertha's
hands, and gazing into her face with eyes which grew large as if in
a distressful appeal.

"To Egypt?"

"Yes. It was decided whilst I was in Switzerland. Mrs. Capron wants
a friend to be with her; one who can help her in water-colours. She
thought, of course, that I couldn't go; wrote to me just wishing it
were possible. And I caught at the chance! Oh, caught at it!"

"That's what I don't understand," said Bertha.

"I want to explain it all. Come into this cosy corner. Nobody will
disturb us except when they bring tea.--Do you know that picture
of Leader's? Isn't it exquisite!--Are you tired, Bertha? You look
so, a little. I'm afraid you walked from the station, and it's such
a hot day. But oh, the loveliness of the trees about here! Do you
remember our first walk together? You were shy, stiff; didn't feel
quite sure whether you liked me or not. And I thought you--just a
little critical. But before we got back again, I think we had begun
to understand each other. And I wonder whether you'll understand me
now. It would be dreadful if I felt you disapproved of me. Of course
if you do, I'd much rather you said so. You will--won't you?"