CHAPTER IV.
Rosa cried "Oh!" and put up her hands to her face in lovely confusion, coloring like a peony.
"I beg your pardon," said Christopher, stiffly, but in a voice that trembled.
"No," said Rosa, "it was I ran against you.

I walk so fast now.

Hope I did not hurt you." "Hurt me ?" "Well, then, frighten you ?" No answer.
"Oh, please don't quarrel with me in the STREET," said Rosa, cunningly implying that he was the quarrelsome one.

"I am going on the beach.
Good-by!" This adieu she uttered softly, and in a hesitating tone that belied it.

She started off, however, but much more slowly than she was going before; and, as she went, she turned her head with infinite grace, and kept looking askant down at the pavement two yards behind her: moreover she went close to the wall, and left room at her side for another to walk.
Christopher hesitated a moment; but the mute invitation, so arch yet timid, so pretty, tender, sly, and womanly, was too much for him, as it has generally proved for males, and the philosopher's foot was soon in the very place to which the Simpleton with the mere tail of her eye directed it.
They walked along, side by side, in silence, Staines agitated, gloomy, confused, Rosa radiant and glowing, yet not knowing what to say for herself, and wanting Christopher to begin.