"Thank you!"

"There!... Proof positive! I won't speak; I won't risk it. I am most anxious not to offend you, and you shan't force my hand."

She tapped impatiently with the toe of her shoe.

CHAPTER V

PLAYING WITH FIRE

Miss Mivvins was annoyed; the impatient tapping was evidence of it. Not that a little exhibition of temper in any way detracted from her personal appearance. On the contrary, the air of petulance heightened her charms.

"You are just like a man!"

Her speech was accompanied by another toss of her shapely head.

"Isn't that twisting things round? You mean that he never gives a reason for what he says or does?"

"Yes."

Resumption of tattoo with her foot on the ground. It made him exclaim:

"I knew I was right! What if I tell you that I am a mind reader?"

"I would not be a bit surprised!"

He was: greatly. Could not understand what she meant; queried:

"You wouldn't?"

"No."

"I am--to hear you say it. Why?"

"Because in this book of yours I am reading"--she held it up--"I see you believe in palmistry."

"Come, come!" He was genuine in his expostulation. "I make one of my characters believe in it."

"Then you do not?"

She had him in a corner; was merciless. He tried to wriggle out; said:

"I did not say so."

It was an infecund effort on his part. She pinned him in still further; was that kind of woman.

"What does that mean? That you do and you do not?"

There was nothing for him but to fence; he answered:

"Yes and No."

It did not in any way extricate him from his difficulty. She continued:

"You are a complete enigma."

"There is no prize offered for the solution."

He endeavoured to speak lightly, to bring the conversation back to the humorous line it had left; continued:

"I have known people take quite an interest in enigmas. Do you?"

She changed the subject. Kept away from where there was a treading on dangerous ground; felt the ice getting thin; said:

"I gather that this palmist character of yours professes to read the past, but does not venture on prophecy?"

"I venture on prophecy now!"

He spoke suddenly, rising as he did so. Picking up his books, and--for the first time--quietly possessing himself of her bag, continued:

"That rapidly travelling cloud, at present looking very little larger than a man's hand, coming from the south, is full of rain. It will burst before we are back in the town, unless we hurry. Gracie! Gracie!"

The little girl came running in response to his call. All three, for the first time, walked homewards together. A student of human nature might have seen in it a beginning of things.

"I am living in Marine Terrace."

He was describing the situation of his lodgings. Waited for her to respond, and then asked:

"Have you far to go?"

"Oh, not so far as you have; little more than half-way. Ivy Cottage; on the front. Do you know----"

"That pretty little bungalow with the creeper over the porch? Before we reach the big houses?"

"Yes."

He cast an eye over his shoulder at the still distant cloud, gauging the time of its breaking; said:

"When the rain comes it will last, I fear. That will mean confinement to the house."

"I fancy so, too. The local weatherwise are predicting it also. You are not the only prophet. 'Corns are shooting and roomatiz is bad.'"

He laughed at her excellent imitation of the dialect ruling the language of the people; then said:

"May I be personal? How are you off for reading matter?"