‘This shows the folly of ignoring the papers,’ I said.  ’I did undoubtedly say in some letters to friends that I proposed going to Japan; but my loss of you, my grief, my misery, paralysed every faculty of mine.  My strength of purpose was all gone.  I delayed and delayed starting, and never left Wales at all, as you see.’

‘Two things,’ continued Winnie, ’prevented my leaving Hurstcote—­my promise to Mr. D’Arcy to sit to him for his picture of Zenelophon, and the prosaic fact that I had not money in my pocket to travel with; for it was part of the delicate method of Mr. D’Arcy to furnish me with everything money could buy, but to give me no money.  His extravagant expenditure upon me in the way of dress, trinkets, and every kind of luxury that could be placed in my room by Mrs. Titwing appalled me.  Mrs. Titwing’s own bearing, when I spoke to her about them, would have made one almost suppose that they grew there like mushrooms; and if I mentioned them to Mr. D’Arcy he would tell me that Mrs. Titwing was answerable for all that; he knew nothing about such matters.

’What I should in the end have done as to leaving Hurstcote or remaining there I don’t know; but after a while something occurred to remove my difficulties.  One morning, when I was giving Mr. D’Arcy a long sitting for his picture, a Gypsy friend of Sinfi’s, belonging to a family of Lees encamped two or three miles off, called to see her.  It was a man, Sinfi told me, whom I did not know, and he had gone away without my seeing him.

’In the afternoon, when Sinfi and I were in the punt fishing together, I could not help noticing that she was much absorbed in thought.

’"This ‘ere fishin’ brings back old Wales, don’t it?” she said.

’"Yes,” I said, “and I should love to see the old places again.”

’"You would?” she said; and her excitement was so great that she dropped her fishing-rod in the river.  “Jake Lee has been tellin’ me that our people are there, all camped in the old place by Bettws y Coed.  I told him to write to my daddy—­Jake can write—­and tell him that I’m goin’ to see him.”

’"But you already knew they were there, Sinfi; you told me.  What makes you so suddenly want to go?”

’"That’s nuther here nor there.  I do want to go.  Why can’t you go with me?”

’"I should much like it,” I said, “but it’s impossible.”

’"Why?  You can come back to Mr. D’Arcy again.”

’"But, Sinfi,” I said, “how are we to travel without money?  I have not a copper.”

’"Ah, but I’ve got gold balansers about me, and they’re better nor copper.”

’"Dear Sinfi!” I said, “I’d rather borrow of you than any one in the world.”

’"Borrow!” said she,—­“all right!  Now we shall have to speak to Mr. D’Arcy about it.  It’ll be like drawin’ one o’ his teeth partin’ with you.”

’When I next saw Mr. D’Arcy I found that Sinfi had already spoken to him about our project.  He seemed very reluctant for me to leave him, although I promised him that I would return.