Rowland shook his head.  “Absolutely none.”

“What do you do all day?”

“Nothing worth relating.  That ’s why I am going to Europe.  There, at least, if I do nothing, I shall see a great deal; and if I ’m not a producer, I shall at any rate be an observer.”

“Can’t we observe everywhere?”

“Certainly; and I really think that in that way I make the most of my opportunities.  Though I confess,” he continued, “that I often remember there are things to be seen here to which I probably have n’t done justice.  I should like, for instance, to see West Nazareth.”

She looked round at him, open-eyed; not, apparently, that she exactly supposed he was jesting, for the expression of such a desire was not necessarily facetious; but as if he must have spoken with an ulterior motive.  In fact, he had spoken from the simplest of motives.  The girl beside him pleased him unspeakably, and, suspecting that her charm was essentially her own and not reflected from social circumstance, he wished to give himself the satisfaction of contrasting her with the meagre influences of her education.  Miss Garland’s second movement was to take him at his word.  “Since you are free to do as you please, why don’t you go there?”

“I am not free to do as I please now.  I have offered your cousin to bear him company to Europe, he has accepted with enthusiasm, and I cannot retract.”

“Are you going to Europe simply for his sake?”

Rowland hesitated a moment.  “I think I may almost say so.”

Miss Garland walked along in silence.  “Do you mean to do a great deal for him?” she asked at last.

“What I can.  But my power of helping him is very small beside his power of helping himself.”

For a moment she was silent again.  “You are very generous,” she said, almost solemnly.

“No, I am simply very shrewd.  Roderick will repay me.  It ’s an investment.  At first, I think,” he added shortly afterwards, “you would not have paid me that compliment.  You distrusted me.”

She made no attempt to deny it.  “I did n’t see why you should wish to make Roderick discontented.  I thought you were rather frivolous.”

“You did me injustice.  I don’t think I ’m that.”

“It was because you are unlike other men—­those, at least, whom I have seen.”

“In what way?”

“Why, as you describe yourself.  You have no duties, no profession, no home.  You live for your pleasure.”

“That ’s all very true.  And yet I maintain I ’m not frivolous.”

“I hope not,” said Miss Garland, simply.  They had reached a point where the wood-path forked and put forth two divergent tracks which lost themselves in a verdurous tangle.  Miss Garland seemed to think that the difficulty of choice between them was a reason for giving them up and turning back.  Rowland thought otherwise, and detected agreeable grounds for preference in the left-hand path.  As a compromise,