"You don't really? You don't know who I am? Or where I come from? Or where I'm going to? I don't know myself."

"I know," said Lucy, "as much as I've any right to. But unluckily the thing I want to know——"

"Is what you haven't any right to?"

"I'm afraid I haven't. The thing I want to know is simply whether I can help you in any way."

She smiled. "Ah," said she, "you have said it."

"Haven't I said it differently?"

"I'm not sure. You looked different when you said it; that's something."

"I know I've no right to say it at all. What I mean is that if I could do anything for you without boring you, without forcing myself on your acquaintance, I'd be most awfully glad. You know you needn't recognise me afterward unless you like. Have I put it differently now?"[61]

"Yes; I don't think I've ever heard it put quite that way before."

There was a long pause in which Lucy vainly sought for illumination.

"No," said Mrs. Tailleur, as if to herself; "I should never know what you were going to say or do next."

"Wouldn't you?"

"No; I didn't know just now whether you were going to speak to me or not. When I said I wanted to walk I didn't know whether you'd come with me or not."

"I came."

"You came; but when I go——"

"You're not going?"

"Yes; to-morrow, perhaps, or the next day. When I go I shall give you my address and ask you to come and see me; but I shan't know whether you'll come."

"Of course I'll come."

"There's no 'of course' about you; that's the charm of it. I shan't know until you're actually there."[62]

"I shall be there all right."

"What? You'll come?"

"Yes; and I'll bring my