“There is no sort of reason for our pushing through this crowd in a gang of three.  Besides, I want to look at the pictures, and not after you to see which way you go.  I shall meet you here at six o’clock, sharp.  Good-bye.”

“What an extraordinary girl!” said Mrs. Fairfax, as Elinor opened her catalogue at the end, and suddenly disappeared to the right amongst the crowd.

“She always does so,” said Marian; “and I think she is quite right.  Two people cannot make their way about as easily as one; and they never want to see the same pictures.”

“But, my dear, consider the impropriety of a young girl walking about by herself.”

“Surely there is no impropriety in it.  Lots of people—­all sensible women do it.  Who can tell, in this crowd, whether you are by yourself or not?  And what does it matter if——­”

Here Mrs. Fairfax’s attention was diverted by the approach of one of her numerous acquaintances.  Marian, after a moment’s indecision, slipped away and began her tour of the rooms alone, passing quickly through the first in order to escape pursuit.  In the second she tried to look at the pictures; but as she now for the first time realized that she might meet Conolly at any moment, doubt as to what answer she should give him seized her; and she felt a strong impulse to fly.  The pictures were unintelligible to her:  she kept her face turned to the inharmonious shew of paint and gilding only because she shrank from looking at the people about.  Whenever she stood still, and any man approached and remained near her, she contemplated the wall fixedly, and did not dare to look round or even to stir until he moved away, lest he should be Conolly.  When she passed from the second room to the large one, she felt as though she were making a tremendous plunge; and indeed the catastrophe occurred before she had accomplished the movement, for she came suddenly face to face with him in the doorway.  He did not flinch:  he raised his hat, and prepared to pass on.  She involuntarily put out her hand in remonstrance.  He took it as a gift at once; and she, confused, said anxiously:  “We must not stand in the doorway.  The people cannot pass us,” as if her action had meant nothing more than an attempt to draw him out of the way.  Then, perceiving the absurdity of this pretence, she was quite lost for a moment.  When she recovered her self-possession they were standing together in the less thronged space near a bust of the Queen; and Conolly was saying: 

“I have been here half an hour; and I have not seen a single picture.”

“Nor I,” she said timidly, looking down at her catalogue.  “Shall we try to see some now?”