unwilling to have a scene and provoke the interference of a policeman;
one of whom was now seen walking slowly up to the spot. They therefore
preserved a discomfited silence; and Percival St. John, with his heart
going ten knots a beat, sailed triumphantly off with his prize.

Scarcely knowing whither he went, certainly forgetful of Mr. Mivers, in
his anxiety to escape at least from the crowd, Percival walked on till he
found himself with his fair charge under the trees of St. James's Park.

Then Helen, recovering herself, paused, and said, alarmed: "But this is
not my way; I must go back to the street!"

"How foolish I am! That is true," said Percival, looking confused. "I--
I felt so happy to be with you, feel your hand on my arm, and think that
we were all by ourselves, that--that---But you have dropped your
flowers!"

And as a bouquet Helen wore, dislodged somehow or other, fell to the
ground, both stooped to pick it up, and their hands met. At that touch,
Percival felt a strange tremble, which perhaps communicated itself (for
such things are contagious) to his fair companion. Percival had got the
nosegay, and seemed willing to detain it; for he bent his face
lingeringly over the flowers. At length he turned his bright, ingenuous
eyes to Helen, and singling one rose from the rest, said beseechingly:
"May I keep this? See, it is not so fresh as the others."

"I am sure, sir," said Helen, colouring, and looking down, "I owe you so
much that I should be glad if a poor flower could repay it."

"A poor flower! You don't know what a prize this is to me!" Percival