“No, indeed,” cried his companion with energy.  “I don’t like him in the least.  He is a cruel, bad-hearted man.”

“Cruel!  You don’t mean cruel to you, of course.”

“No, not to me.  I avoid him as much as I can, and sometimes for weeks we hardly exchange a word.  Do you know what he did the other day?  It makes me shudder even to think of it.  I heard a cat crying pitifully in the garden, so I went out to see what was the matter.  When I got outside I saw Ezra Girdlestone leaning out of a window with a gun in his hands—­one of those air-guns which don’t make any noise when they go off.  And there, in the middle of the garden, was a poor cat that he had tied to a bush, and he had been practising at it for ever so long.  The poor creature was still alive, but oh! so dreadfully injured.”

“The brute!  What did you do?”

“I untied it and brought it inside, but it died during the night.”

“And what did he say?”

“He put up his gun while I was untying it, as if he had half a mind to take a shot at me.  When I met him afterwards he said that he would teach me to mind my own business.  I didn’t mind what he said though, as long as I had the cat.”

“Spoke like that, did he?” said Tom savagely, flushing up to his eyes.  “I wish I saw him now.  I’d teach him manners, or—­”

“You’ll certainly get run over if you go on like that,” interrupted Kate.

Indeed, the young man in his indignation was striding over a crossing without the slightest heed of the imminent danger which he ran from the stream of traffic.

“Don’t be so excitable, Cousin Tom,” she said, laying her gloved hand upon his arm; “there is nothing to be cross about.”

“Isn’t there?” he answered furiously.  “It’s a pretty state of things that you should have to submit to insults from a brutal puppy like that fellow Ezra Girdlestone.”  The pair had managed by this time to get half-way across the broad road, and were halting upon the little island of safety formed by the great stone base of a lamp-post.  An interminable stream of ’buses—­yellow, purple, and brown—­with vans, hansoms, and growlers, blocked the way in front of them.  A single policeman, with his back turned to them, and his two arms going like an animated semaphore, was the only human being in their immediate vicinity.  Amid all the roar and rattle of the huge city they were as thoroughly left to themselves as though they were in the centre of Salisbury Plain.

“You must have a protector,” Tom said with decision.

“Oh, Cousin Tom, don’t be foolish; I can protect myself very well.”

“You must have some one who has a right to look after you.”  The young man’s voice was husky, for the back part of his throat had become unaccountably dry of a sudden.

“You can pass now, sir,” roared the constable, for there was a momentary break in the traffic.

“Don’t go for a moment,” Tom cried, desperately detaining his companion by the sleeve of her jacket.  “We are alone here and can talk.  Don’t you think—­don’t you think you could like me a little bit if you were to try?  I love you so, Kate, that I cannot help hoping that my love is not all lost.”