’So much the better.  I’m a natural bohemian myself, and like nothing so well as to disregard ceremony.  And, by-the-bye, that’s the very reason why I ran away from my sister to speak to you; I knew you would dislike formalities.  I’m afraid I was rather glad than otherwise to escape.  We have been taking the children for a drive —­ charming little rascals, but for the moment my domestic instincts are satisfied.  Mrs. Frothingham mentioned that you were living with a friend —­ an art student.’

‘We go away for a holiday in a day or two,’ said Alma, more at her ease.  ‘To Bregenz —­ do you know it?’

’By name only.  You go in a day or two?  I wish you would let me know your address there,’ he added, with frank friendliness.  ’I go on with my sister to Salzburg, and then turn off on my own account; I might be able to pass your way, and I should so much like to have a talk with you —­ a real talk, about music and all sorts of things.  Did I ever tell you of my little place at Riva, head of Lake Garda?  Cosy little nook, but I’m not there very often; I half thought of going for a week or two’s quietness.  Quite cool there by the lake.  But I really must try to see you at Bregenz —­ do let me.’

He begged it as a favour, a privilege, and Alma without hesitation told him where she would be living.

’For a few weeks?  Oh, then, I shall make a point of coming that way.  You’re not working too hard, I hope?  I know you don’t do things by halves.  When I first heard you were going in seriously for music, I said to myself, “Tant mieux, another great violinist!"’

The listener reddened with delight; her step became elastic; she carried her head gallantly, and feared not the glances Redgrave cast at her.

‘I have learnt not to talk about myself,’ she said, bestowing a smile upon him.  ’That’s the first bad habit to be overcome by the amateur converted.’

’Capital!  An axiom worth putting into print, for the benefit of all and sundry.  Now I must say goodbye; that fellow yonder will take me back to the domesticities.’  He hailed an empty carriage.  ’We shall meet again among the mountains. Auf Wiedersehen!’

Alma continued to walk along the Nymphenburg road, unconscious of external things.  The tram for which she had been waiting passed by; she no longer cared to go out into the country.  It was enough to keep moving in the bright sunshine, and to think her thoughts.

No; people had by no means forgotten her.  Whilst she was allowing herself to fall into gloom and indolence, her acquaintances, it was evident, made her a constant subject of talk, of speculation; just what she had desired, but had lost courage to believe.  They expected great things of her; her personal popularity and her talents had prevailed against the most prejudicial circumstance; people did not think of her as the daughter of Bennet Frothingham, —­ unless to contrast the hopefulness of her future with the black calamity that lay behind.