‘Is your memory as good as my own, Miss Hood?’ she said pleasantly.  ’Do you remember our meeting four years ago?’

The other regarded her with quiet surprise, and said she had no recollection of the meeting.

’Not at Mr. Baxendale’s, my uncle’s, one day that you lunched with us when I was staying there?’

Miss Hood had wholly forgotten the circumstance.  It served, however, for the commencement of a conversation, which went en till Mrs. Rossall, finding the hammock deserted, was guided by the sound of voices to where the two girls and the children sat.

In the afternoon there was a setting forth into the country.  Mr. Athel drove his sister and the children; Wilfrid and Beatrice accompanied them on horseback.  The course to be pursued having been determined, the riders were not at pains to keep the carriage always within sight.

‘Why did Miss Hood decline to come?’ Mr. Athel inquired, shortly after they had started.

She gave no reason, Mrs. Rossall replied.  ’It was her choice to stay at home.’

‘Of course you asked her in a proper way?’

‘Why, Philip, of course I did.’

‘Miss Hood never alters her mind,’ remarked Patty.

‘Never,’ exclaimed the other twin with decision.

‘An admirable characteristic,’ commented their uncle, ’provided her decision is right to begin with.’

Beatrice had just led off at a gallop; Wilfrid necessarily followed her.  When the pace slackened they began to talk of Indifferent things.  On the crest of a hill, whence the carriage could be seen far away on the white road, the girl reined in, and, turning to her companion, asked abruptly—­

‘What is your opinion of Miss Hood?’

‘Why do you ask such a question?’

’Because I should like to know.  She interests me, and you must have had opportunities enough lately of studying her character?’

‘Why does she interest you?’

’I can’t say.  I thought you might help me to discover the reason.  You have often said that you liked women of strongly marked character.’

‘How do you conclude that she is one?’

’I feel it; we were talking together before lunch.  I don’t think I like her; I don’t think she has principles.’

Wilfrid laughed.

’Principles!  The word is vague.  You mean, no doubt, that she doesn’t seem to have commonplace prejudices.’

‘That’s just what I wanted you to say.’

She let her horse move on.  The young man followed, his eyes gazing absently before him, a smile fixed upon his lips.

Beatrice looked over her shoulder.

‘Does she read the same kind of books that you do?’

‘Unfortunately I read no books at all.’

She paused again to let him get to her side.

‘What a pity it can’t continue!’

‘What?’

‘Your inability to read.’

‘That is the kindest remark I have heard for a long time!’ exclaimed Wilfrid with a good-natured laugh.