She has this morning taken her walk in a different direction, as I did; and we both chanced again to hit upon the same," answered John, gravely and explanatorily.

"Come away down the slope.
We must not intrude upon a lady's enjoyments." He carried me off, much against my will, for I had a great wish to see again that fresh young face, so earnest, cheerful, and good.

Also, as I laboured in vain to convince my companion, the said face indicated an independent dignity which would doubtless make its owner perfectly indifferent whether her solitary walk were crossed by two gentlemen or two hundred.
John agreed to this; nevertheless, he was inexorable.

And, since he was "a man of the world"-- having, in his journeys up and down the country for my father, occasionally fallen into "polite" society--I yielded the point to him and submitted to his larger experience of good breeding.
However, Fate, kinder than he, took the knot of etiquette into her own hands, and broke it.
Close to the cottage door, our two paths converging, and probably our breakfast-hours likewise, brought us suddenly face to face with Miss March.
She saw us, and we had a distinct sight of her.
I was right: we and our contiguity were not of the smallest importance to Miss March.

Her fresh morning roses did not deepen, nor her eyes droop, as she looked for a moment at us both--a quiet, maidenly look of mere observation.