Bowling, and the letter, though brief, cost her some thought.  ’Dear Mr. Bowling,—­Your last is so very nice and kind that I feel I ought to answer it without delay, but I cannot answer in the way you wish.  I must have a long, long time to think over such a very important question.  I don’t blame you in the least for your behaviour to someone we know of; and I think, after all that happened, you were quite free.  It is quite true that she did not behave straightforwardly, and I am very sorry to have to say it.  I shall not be going home again:  I have quite made up my mind about that.  I am afraid I must not let you come here to call upon me.  I have a particular reason for it.  To tell you the truth, my friend Mrs. Mumford is very particular, and rather fussy, and has a rather trying temper.  So please do not come just yet.  I am quite well, and enjoying myself in a very quiet way.—­I remain, sincerely yours, LOUISE E. DERRICK.’  Finally she penned a reply to Mr. Cobb, and this, after a glance at a railway time-table, gave her no trouble at all.  ‘Dear Mr. Cobb,’ she scribbled, ’if you really must see me before you go away to Bristol, or wherever it is, you had better meet me on Saturday at Streatham Station, which is about halfway between me and you.  I shall come by the train from Sutton, which reaches Streatham at 8.6.—­Yours truly, L. E. D.’

To-day was Thursday.  When Saturday came the state of things at “Runnymede” had undergone no change whatever; Emmeline still waited for a moment of courage, and Mumford, though he did not relish the prospect, began to think it more than probable that Miss Derrick would hold her ground until her actual marriage with Mr. Bowling.  Whether that unknown person would discharge the debt his betrothed was incurring seemed an altogether uncertain matter.  Louise, in the meantime, kept quiet as a mouse—­so strangely quiet, indeed, that Emmeline’s prophetic soul dreaded some impending disturbance, worse than any they had yet suffered.

At luncheon, Louise made known that she would have to leave in the middle of dinner to catch a train.  No explanation was offered or asked, but Emmeline, it being Saturday, said she would put the dinner-hour earlier, to suit her friend’s convenience.  Louise smiled pleasantly, and said how very kind it was of Mrs. Mumford.

She had no difficulty in reaching Streatham by the time appointed.  Unfortunately, it was a cloudy evening, and a spattering of rain fell from time to time.

‘I suppose you’ll be afraid to walk to the Common,’ said Mr. Cobb, who stood waiting at the exit from the station, and showed more satisfaction in his countenance when Louise appeared than he evinced in words.

‘Oh, I don’t care,’ she answered.  ’It won’t rain much, and I’ve brought my umbrella, and I’ve nothing on that will take any harm.’

She had, indeed, dressed herself in her least demonstrative costume.  Cobb wore the usual garb of his leisure hours, which was better than that in which he had called the other day at “Runnymede.”  For some minutes they walked towards Streatham Common without interchange of a word, and with no glance at each other.  Then the man coughed, and said bluntly that he was glad Louise had come.