At the end of a fortnight she was tired of everything, wished to go away, thought longingly of England.

It was plain that Mr.Redgrave would not come; he had never seriously meant it; his _Auf Wiedersehen_ was a mere civility to get rid of her in the street.

Why had he troubled to inquire about her at all?
Of course it didn't matter--nothing mattered--but if ever she met him again! Alma tried her features in expression of cold scornfulness.
On the next day, as she was returning from an idle walk with her friend along the Lindau road, Mr.Redgrave met them.

He was dressed as she had never seen him, in flannels, with a white necktie loosely knotted and a straw hat.

Not till he had come near enough to salute did she recognise him; he looked ten years younger.
They talked as if the meeting were of daily occurrence.