Approaching from different ends of the walk the two had almost passed each other before Lord Francis looked up, and their eyes met. He sprang back with a cry of surprise, and of something approaching to dismay, while she stood quietly looking at him out of somber, deeply-questioning eyes.
"Lucille!" he gasped. "You are the last person whom I expected to see in Harrogate."
"But I am not surprised," she answered, speaking with a slight French lisp, which added a charm to her rich, deep voice. "I knew that you were in Harrogate. That is why I came."
"But why do you wish to follow me, Lucille? What good can come of it?"
"What good? All good. Is not love good? And do I not love you? Ah, Frank, you taught me to love you, and how can I unlearn it? It is happiness to me to see you and to speak to you."
"But see the misery that it has caused. We must part, Lucille. If you truly love me you will help me to retrieve my life, and not to wreck it further."
"Ah!" cried she, with a quick flash in her dark eyes. "You have seen her. You have been speaking with your wife again."
"Yes, I saw her to-day."
"By chance?"
"Yes, by chance."
"And you are friends again?"
