They went forward together.  Monica no longer smiled, but neither did she look angry.  Her expression was one of trouble.

‘Where shall you spend the day, Mr. Bullivant?’ she asked length, with an effort to seem unconcerned.

‘I really don’t know.’

‘I should think it would be very nice up the river.’  And she added diffidently, ‘Miss Eade is going to Richmond.’

‘Is she?’ he replied vaguely.

‘At least she wished to go—­if she could find a companion.’

‘I hope she will enjoy herself,’ said Mr. Bullivant, with careful civility.

’But of course she won’t enjoy it very much if she has to go alone.  As you have no particular engagement, Mr. Bullivant, wouldn’t it be kind to—?’

The suggestion was incomplete, but intelligible.

‘I couldn’t ask Miss Eade to let me accompany her,’ said the young man gravely.

‘Oh, I think you could.  She would like it.’

Monica looked rather frightened at her boldness, and quickly added—­

‘Now I must say good-bye.  There comes the bus.’

Bullivant turned desperately in that direction.  He saw there was as yet no inside passenger.

‘Do allow me to go a short way with you?’ burst from his lips.  ’I positively don’t know how I shall spend the morning.’

Monica had signalled to the driver, and was hurrying forward.  Bullivant followed, reckless of consequences.  In a minute both were seated within.

‘You will forgive me?’ pleaded the young fellow, remarking a look of serious irritation on his companion’s face.  ’I must be with you a few minutes longer.’

‘I think when I have begged you not to—­’

’I know how bad my behaviour must seem.  But, Miss Madden, may I not be on terms of friendship with you?’

‘Of course you may—­but you are not content with that.’

‘Yes—­indeed—­I will be content—­’

’It’s foolish to say so.  Haven’t you broken the understanding three or four times?’

The bus stopped for a passenger, a man, who mounted to the top.

‘I am so sorry,’ murmured Bullivant, as the starting horses jolted them together.  ’I try not to worry you.  Think of my position.  You have told me that there is no one else who—­whose rights I ought to respect.  Feeling as I do, it isn’t in human nature to give up hope!’

‘Then will you let me ask you a rude question?’

‘Ask me any question, Miss Madden.’

‘How would it be possible for you to support a wife?’

She flushed and smiled.  Bullivant, dreadfully discomposed, did not move his eyes from her.

‘It wouldn’t be possible for some time,’ he answered in a thick voice.  ‘I have nothing but my wretched salary.  But every one hopes.’

‘What reasonable hope have you?’ Monica urged, forcing herself to be cruel, because it seemed the only way of putting an end to this situation.