That was all.  And what exactly did it mean?  Warburton’s practical knowledge of women did not carry him very far, but he was wont to theorise at large on the subject, and in this instance it seemed to him that one of his favourite generalities found neat application.  Miss Elvan had in a high degree the feminine characteristic of not knowing her own mind.  Finding herself without substantial means, she of course meant to marry, and it was natural that she should think of marrying Norbert Franks; yet she could not feel at all sure that she wished to do so; neither was she perfectly certain that Franks would again offer her the choice.  In this state of doubt she inclined to cultivate the acquaintance of Franks’ intimate friend, knowing that she might thus, very probably, gather hints as to the artist’s state of mind, and, if it seemed good to her, could indirectly convey to him a suggestion of her own.  Warburton concluded, then, that he was simply being made use of by this typical young lady.  That point settled, he willingly lent himself to her device, for he desired nothing better than to see Franks lured back to the old allegiance, and away from the house at Walham Green.  So, before going to bed, he posted a reply to Miss Elvan’s letter, saying that he should much like a talk with her about the artistic possibilities of obscure London, and that he would walk next day along the Battersea Embankment, with the hope of meeting her.

And thus it came to pass.  Through the morning there were showers, but about noon a breeze swept the sky fair, and softly glowing summer reigned over the rest of the day.  In his mood of hopefulness, Warburton had no scruple about abandoning the shop at tea-time; he did not even trouble himself to invent a decorous excuse, but told Allchin plainly that he thought he would have a walk.  His henchman, who of late had always seemed rather pleased than otherwise when Warburton absented himself, loudly approved the idea.

“Don’t you ’urry back, sir.  There’ll be no business as I can’t manage.  Don’t you think of ’urrying.  The air’ll do you good.”

As he walked away, Will said to himself that no doubt Allchin would only be too glad of a chance of managing the business independently, and that perhaps he hoped for the voluntary retirement of Mr. Jollyman one of these days.  Indeed, things were likely to take that course.  And Allchin was a good, honest fellow, whom it would be a pleasure to see flourishing.—­How much longer would old Strangwyn cumber the world?

With more of elasticity than usual in his rapid stride, Will passed out of Fulham Road into King’s Road, and down to the river at Cheyne Walk, whence his eye perceived a sitting figure on the opposite bank.  He crossed Albert Bridge; he stepped down into the Park; he drew near to the young lady in grey trimmed with black, who was at work upon a drawing.  Not until he spoke did she seem aware of his arrival; then with her brightest smile of welcome, she held out a pretty hand, and in her melodious voice thanked him for so kindly taking the trouble to come.