The others had their backs to the girl, and by the time one or two of them turned round she was quietly helping Courthorne’s companion; but it was a moment or two before Courthorne commenced to eat, for the waitress was certainly Ailly Blake.  It was as certain that she had recognized him, which was, however, by no means astonishing, and this promised another complication, for he was commencing to realize that since Winston had gone to Silverdale it would be convenient that Courthorne as such should cease to exist.  He fancied that should any of the men he was acquainted with happen to come across Winston at Silverdale—­which was, however, most unlikely—­they might be deceived by the resemblance between himself and the farmer; but it was hardly to be expected that Ailly Blake would fail to be sure of him in any circumstances and anywhere.  He accordingly decided that he must have an interview with her as soon as possible, and, since he had been in many tight places before, in the meanwhile went on tranquilly with his supper.

The meal was over, and the men clustered around the stove when he gathered up one or two of the plates and laid them ready as the girl moved along the table.  She glanced at him for a moment, with startled eyes.  A spot of crimson showed in her cheek.

“I want a word with you,” he said.

Ailly Blake flashed a swift glance round the room, and Courthorne noticed with a little smile that it was one man in particular her gaze rested on; but neither Potter nor any of the others seemed to be observing them at that moment.

“Then open the second door down the corridor in about twenty minutes,” she said.

She moved away and left him to join the others about the stove, until the time she mentioned had elapsed, when he sauntered out of the room and opened the door she had indicated.  It led into a little room apparently used as a household store.  Here Ailly Blake was standing, while a litter of forks, spoons, and nickeled knives showed what her occupation had been.  Courthorne sat down on a table and looked at her with a little smile, though she stood intent, and quivering a little.

“Well,” she said, almost harshly, “what is it you want?”

Courthorne laughed.  “Need you ask?  Is it astonishing that I was anxious to see you?  I don’t think it’s necessary to point out that you are quite as good to look at as ever.”

The girl’s lips trembled a little, and it was evident that she put a constraint upon herself.

“You haven’t changed either,” she said bitterly.  “You have still the smooth tongue and the laugh in your eyes that should warn folks against it.  I listened to it once, and it brought me black shame and sorrow.”

“I almost fancy, Ailly, that if I wanted you to very much you would listen again.”

The girl shrank from him a little and then straightened herself suddenly and faced him with a flash in her eyes.