It was now about four o’clock, and Cuthbert fancied that after all it would be best to boldly ring at the door and ask admission, in spite of Mrs. Octagon.

But while hesitating to risk all his chances of seeing Juliet on one throw of fortune’s dice, the matter was decided for him by the appearance of Juliet herself.  She came out of the gate and walked directly towards the path.  It would seem as though she expected to find Cuthbert, for she walked straight up to him and caught his hand.  There was no one about to see their meeting, but Juliet was not disposed to behave tenderly.

“Why are you here?” she asked.  “Susan Grant told me you—­”

“Susan Grant!” echoed Cuthbert, resolved not to know too much in the presence of Juliet.  “I saw her name in the papers.  How does she know me?”

“I can’t say,” said Juliet quickly; “come along this way.”  She hurried along the narrow path, talking all the time.  “She came in just now and said you were waiting in the by-path.  I came out at once.  I don’t want my mother to see you.”

“Really!” cried Cuthbert, rather nettled.  “I don’t see that I have any reason to avoid Mrs. Octagon.”

“She will not allow me to see you.  If she knew I was meeting you she would be very angry.  We are here only till to-morrow.  Now that Aunt Selina is buried and the will read, we return to Kensington at once.  Come this way.  Let us get into the open.  I don’t wish my mother to follow and find me speaking to you.”

They emerged into a waste piece of land, distant a stone-throw from the railway station, but secluded by reason of many trees and shrubs.  These, belonging to the old Rexton estate, had not yet been rooted up by the builder, and there ran a path through the heart of the miniature wood leading to the station.  When quite screened from observation by the friendly leafage, Juliet turned quickly.  She was pale and ill in looks, and there were dark circles under her eyes which told of sleepless nights.  But she was dressed with her usual care and behaved in a composed manner.

“I wish you had not come, Cuthbert,” she said, again taking his hand, “at least not at present.  Later on—­”

“I wanted to see you at once,” said Mallow, determinedly.  “Did not Basil tell you so?”

Juliet shook her head.  “He said he met you the other day, but gave me no message.”

“Then he is not the friend I took him to be,” said Mallow angrily.

“Don’t be angry with Basil,” said Juliet, gently.  “The poor boy has quite enough trouble.”

“Of his own making,” finished Cuthbert, thoroughly annoyed.  “See here, Juliet, this sort of thing can’t go on.  I have done nothing to warrant my being treated like this.  Your mother is mad to behave as she is doing.  I insist on an explanation.”

Juliet did not pay attention to this hasty speech.  “How do you know Basil has troubles?” she asked hurriedly.