That was a Monday; a week remained before Thyrza’s marriage-day.  Thyrza had not been to the new house since she went with Gilbert to see about the furniture.  Her curiosity was satisfied; her interest in the place had strangely lessened.  More than that:  in walking by herself she never chose that direction, whereas formerly she had always liked to do so.  It seemed as if she had some reason for avoiding sight of the building.

This Monday her mind changed again.  She frequently went to meet her sister at the dinner-hour, and to-day, having set forth somewhat too early, she went round by way of Brook Street.  No positive desire impelled her; it was rather as if her feet took that turning independently of her thoughts.  On drawing near to the library she was surprised to see a van standing before the door; two men were carrying a wooden box into the building.  She crossed to the opposite side of the way, and went forwards slowly.  The men came out, mounted to the box-seat of the van, and drove away.

That must be a delivery of books.  Who was there to receive them?

She crossed the street again, and approached the library door.  She walked past it, stopped, came back.  She tried the handle, and the door opened.  There was no harm in looking in.

Amid a number of packing-oases stood Egremont.  His head was uncovered, and he had a screw-driver in his hand, as if about to open the chests.  At sight of Thyrza he came forward with a look of delight and shook hands with her.

’So you have discovered what I’m about.  I didn’t wish anyone to know.  You see, the shelves are all ready, and I couldn’t resist the temptation of having books brought.  Will you keep the secret?’

‘I won’t say a word, sir.’

Warmth on Thyrza’s cheeks answered the pleasure in his eyes as he looked at her.  Perhaps neither had fully felt how glad it would make them to meet again.  When Thyrza had given her assurance, Egremont’s face showed that he was going to say something in a different tone.

’Miss Trent, will you speak to me in future as you do to your friends?  I want very much to be one of your friends, if you will let me.’

Thyrza kept her eyes upon the ground.  She could not find the fitting words for reply.  He continued: 

’Grail is my friend, and we always talk as friends should.  Won’t you cease to think of me as a stranger?’

‘I don’t think of you in that way, Mr. Egremont.’

‘Then let us shake hands again in the new way.’

Thyrza gave hers.  She just met his eyes for a moment her own had a smile of intense happiness.

‘Yes, keep this a secret,’ Egremont went on, quickly resuming his ordinary voice.  ’I’ll surprise Grail in a few days, by bringing him in.  Now, how am I to get this lid off?  How tremendously firm it is!  I suppose I ought to have got the men to do it, but I brought a screw-driver in my pocket, thinking it would be easy enough.  Ah, there’s a beginning!  I ought to have a hammer.’