"Not any message this time either?" said Grace, when told that he
had kissed her flowers, and that was all.
Still this was proof that he was pleased, and the infatuated woman
persisted in preparing bouquets, which Edith daily carried to
Collingwood, going always at the same time, and finding him always
in the same spot waiting for her. As yet no word had passed
between them, for Edith, who liked the novelty of the affair, was
so light-footed that she generally managed to slip the bouquet
into his hand, and run away ere he had time to detain her. One
morning, however, near the middle of October, when, owing to a
bruised heel, she had not been to see him for more than a week, he
sat in his accustomed place, half-expecting her, and still
thinking how improbable it was that she would come. He had become
strangely attached to the little unknown, as he termed her; he
thought of her all the day long, and when, in the chilly evening,
he sat before the glowing grate, listening to the monotonous
whisperings of his father, he wished so much that she was there
beside him.
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