The life of a young English damsel, in a prim villa at Bayswater, with a very commonplace mother and a practical stockbroking stepfather, is rather a narrow kind of existence; and to such a damsel the stranger whose hand lifts the curtain that shrouds new and brighter worlds is apt to become a very important personage, especially when the stranger happens to be young and handsome, and invested with that dash of Bohemianism which to artless and sentimental girlhood has such a flavour of romance.
Charlotte was very silent as she retraced her steps along the broad gravel walk.

As they drew near the Bayswater-gate she looked at her watch.

It was nearly one o'clock, and she had promised Mrs.Sheldon to be home at one for luncheon, and afterwards shopping.
"I'm afraid we must hurry home, Di," she said.
"I am quite ready to go," answered Miss Paget promptly.

"Good-bye, Valentine." "Good-bye, Diana; good-bye, Miss Halliday." Mr.Hawkehurst shook hands with both young ladies; but shaking hands with Charlotte was a very slow process compared to the same performance with Diana.
"Good-bye," he repeated, in a lingering tone; and then, after standing for some moments silent and irresolute, with his hat in his hand, he put it on suddenly and hurried away.
The two girls had walked a few steps towards the gate when Charlotte stopped before a stony-looking alcove, which happened at this nursery-dinner-hour to be empty.
"I'm so tired, Di," she said, and went into the alcove, where she sat down to rest.

She had a little veil attached to her turban hat--a little veil which she now drew over her face.