‘Gilbert’s going to take me to a concert to-night, Mr. Egremont,’ Thyrza said, looking at him shyly.

‘Is he?  You’ll enjoy that.  What concert?’

‘It’s at a place called St. James’s Hall.’

‘Oh yes!  You’ll hear admirable music.’

’I’ve never been to a concert before.  But when I was at Eastbourne I heard a lady play the piano.  I did enjoy that!’

Egremont started.

‘Was it Miss Newthorpe?’ he asked, looking at her without a smile.

‘Yes, that was her name.’

She met his look.  Walter half turned away, then bent down to the books again.

‘I know her,’ he said.  ‘She plays well.’

He took a couple of volumes, and went with them to the shelves, where he placed them, without thought, next to the Gibbon.  But in a moment he noticed the title, and moved them to another place.  He had become absent.  Thyrza, remaining by the case, followed his movements with her eyes.  As he came back, he asked: 

‘Did you like Mrs. Ormonde?’

‘Yes.  She was very kind to me.’

To him it seemed an inadequate reply, and strengthened his fear that Mrs. Ormonde had not shown all the warmth he would have desired.  Yet, as it proved, she had asked Annabel to play for Thyrza.  Thyrza, too, felt that she ought to say more, but all at once she found a difficulty in speaking.  Her thoughts had strayed.

‘I think I must go now,’ she said, ‘or I shall miss my sister.’

’In that case, I won’t delay you.  I shall open one or two more of these boxes, then go somewhere for lunch.  Good-bye!’

Thyrza said good-bye rather hurriedly, and without raising her face.

It happened that just then Mr. Bower was coming along Brook Street.  He did not usually leave the works at mid-day, but to-day an exceptional occasion took him to Paradise Street in the dinner-hour.  Thyrza came forth from the library just as he neared the corner; she did not see him, but Bower at once observed her.  There was nothing singular in her having been there; possibly the furnishing of the house had begun.  In passing the windows of the future library, Bower looked up at them with curiosity.  Egremont stood there, gazing into the street.  He recognised Bower, nodded, and drew back.

Bower did not care to overtake Thyrza.  He avoided her by crossing the street.  She in the meantime was not going straight to meet her sister; after walking slowly for a little distance, she turned in a direction the opposite of that she ought to have taken.  Then she stopped to look into a shop-window.

A clock showed her that by this time Lydia would be at home.  Yet still she walked away from her own street.  She said to herself that five-and-twenty minutes must pass before Gilbert would leave the house to return to his work.  The way in which she now was would bring her by a long compass into Kennington Road.  Rain threatened, and she had no umbrella; none the less, she went on.