“But father is at St. Joseph’s,” she said, and then she stopped; and then, before she saw his smile, she knew why he had come to Dulwich so early.

The shadows of the leaves on the pavement drew pretty pattern for their feet, and they strolled meditatively through the subdued sunlight.

“Why did you stop and look so startled when you saw me?”

“Because I am so badly dressed; my old house slippers and this—­”

“You look very well—­dress matters nothing.”

“No one would gather your opinions from your appearance.”

Owen laughed, and admired the girl’s wit.

“Do you want to see father very much about the Greek hymn?”

“Well,” he said, and he looked at her questioningly, and not liking to tell her in so many words that he had come to Dulwich to see her, he entered into the question of the text of the hymn, which was imperfect.  Many notes were missing, and had been conjecturely added by a French musician, and he had wished to consult Mr. Innes about them.  So a good deal of time was wasted in conversation in which neither was interested.  Before they were aware, they were at Dowlands, and with an accent of regret in her voice, which Owen noticed with pleasure, she held out her hand and said good-bye.

“Are you very busy, then, are you expecting a pupil?”

“No, I have nothing to do.”

“Then why should we say good-bye?  It is hardly worth while getting up so early in the morning to discuss the text of an ancient Greek hymn.”

His frankness was unexpected, and it pleased her.

“No, I don’t suppose it is; Greek music at eleven o’clock in the morning would be a little trying.”

A delicious sense of humour lit up in her eyes, and he felt his interest in her advance a further stage.

“If you have nothing to do we might go to the picture gallery.  There is a wonderful Watteau—­”

“Watteau at eleven, Greek hymn at one.”

But she felt, all the same, that she would give everything to go to the picture gallery with him.

“But I am not dressed, this is an old thing I wear in the morning; not that there would be many people there, only the curator and a girl copying at eleven in the morning.”

“But is your father coming back at one?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you said Greek hymn at one.  The time will pass quickly between eleven and one.  You need not change your dress.”

Then, with an expressive little glance which went straight to his heart, she noted his fastidious dress, the mauve necktie, the perfectly fitting morning coat buttoned across the chest, the yellow-brown trousers, and the long laced boots, half of patent and half of tan coloured leather.

“I could not walk about with you in this dress and hat, but I sha’n’t keep you long.”

While he waited he congratulated himself on the moment when he had determined to abandon his tour round the world, and come back to seek Evelyn Innes at Dulwich.