“I beg your pardon,” said his friend, coming near.  “I didn’t notice —­I thought you were alone, or, of course I shouldn’t have shouted.  Shall you be at home to-morrow afternoon?”

“If it rains.”

“It’s sure to rain.  I shall look in about four.”

CHAPTER XXII

With a glance at Miss Ringrose, he raised his hat and passed on.  Hilliard, confused by the rapid rencontre, half annoyed at having been seen with Patty, and half wishing he had not granted the appointment for tomorrow, as it might interfere with a visit from the girls, walked forward in silence.

“So we really sha’n’t see you if it’s wet tomorrow,” said Patty.

“Better not.  Eve would be afraid to come, she catches cold so easily.”

“It may be fine, like to-day.  I do hope——­”

She broke off and added: 

“Why, isn’t that Eve in front?”

Eve it certainly was, walking slowly away from the station, a few yards in advance of them.  They quickened their pace, and Patty caught her friend by the arm.  Eve, startled out of abstraction, stared at her with eyes of dismay and bloodless cheeks.

“Did I frighten you?  Mr. Hilliard has come back with me to ask how you are.  Is your head better?”

“I’ve just been down to the station—­for something to do,” said Eve, her look fixed on Hilliard with what seemed to him a very strange intensity.  “The afternoon was so fine.”

“We’ve had a splendid time,” cried Patty.  “Mr. Hilliard has shown me everything.”

“I’m so glad.  I should only have spoilt it if I had been with you.  It’s wretched going about with a headache, and I can’t make believe to enjoy Birmingham.”

Eve spoke hurriedly, still regarding Hilliard, who looked upon the ground.

“Have you been alone all day?” he asked, taking the outer place at her side, as they walked on.

“Of course—­except for the people in the house,” was her offhand reply.

“I met Narramore down at the station; he must have passed you.  What has brought him here to-day, I wonder?”

Appearing not to heed the remark, Eve glanced across at Patty, and said with a laugh: 

“It’s like Paris again, isn’t it—­we three?  You ought to come and live here, Patty.  Don’t you think you could get a place in Birmingham?  Mr. Hilliard would get a piano for his room, and you could let him have some music.  I’m too old to learn.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want me jingling there.”

“Wouldn’t he?  He’s very fond of music indeed.”

Hilliard stopped.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll go any further,” he said mechanically.  “You’re quite well again, Eve, and that’s all I wanted to know.”

“What about to-morrow?” Eve asked.

The sun had set, and in the westward sky rose a mountain of menacing cloud.  Hilliard gave a glance in that direction before replying.