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dying!” she declared passionately, and dashed into the galley to emerge struggling into a mackintosh as unprepossessing as the rest of her clothes. “Would you like me to turn out the pockets in case I’ve stolen anything?” she demanded belligerently.
    He ignored that, contenting himself with standing, arms folded, while she negotiated the narrow plank gangway. Then, involuntarily, he took a step towards her. The rain had made the wood slippery and just as she was about to step on to the bank, one foot skidded and she almost fell.
    But John’s intervention was unnecessary. At that precise moment Miss Coates emerged through the little gate in the hedge, unceremoniously dropped the parcels she was carrying and was in time to keep Rosamund from falling.
    “That was a nearly!” she remarked cheerfully. Then, anxiously: “My dear, you’re crying! Have you hurt yourself?”
    “N-no,” Rosamund stammered. Then she pulled herself together. “No, I’m quite all right, thank you very much.”
    “But you’re not, my child,” Miss Coates insisted. “Now, tell me what’s wrong and we’ll see what we can do about it! ” And putting a protecting arm round the slim, shivering figure, she shot an unmistakably accusing look at John.
    “Not what you’re quite evidently thinking, madam,” he was stung to retort. “I have not inveigled her here and I have not assaulted her! On the contrary, she came of her own free will and without my knowledge or consent. In addition, she had helped herself to some of my food, her excuse being a cock and bull story about having lost her purse! If you’ll take my advice, you’ll send her packing, as I’ve done!”
    “But I’m not willing to take your advice,” Miss Coates replied blandly. “Any more than you, I’m sure, would accept mine! Good afternoon, Mr. Lindsay. And now—” she smiled reassuringly at Rosamund, “let’s go to my boat and share a cup of tea, shall we?”
    John watched them go as they turned their backs on him and made for the Pride of London .
    It would have been very natural if his principal feeling had been one of relief at having got rid of his incubus. But it was nothing of the sort He was keenly aware of a sense of perplexity.
    As Rosamund turned her back on him he was convinced that he’d seen her before, though where and when he had no idea. Oh, absurd! If that was so then surely he would have remembered her face, and he hadn’t. But there was something about her walk—elegant to the degree that she seemed almost to float along, despite the roughness of the towpath. And the poise of her head—
    No, he couldn’t remember, and after all, what did it matter? Whether Miss Coates allowed herself to be imposed on by the girl or not, he would take good care that he wouldn’t be further involved!
    But it was vexing that several times that day—and afterwards—his thoughts turned involuntarily to the perplexing half-memory.
     
    “Now, you sit down while I get tea, my dear,” Miss Coates said cheerfully. 'No, I don’t need any help and you certainly need to relax! Sit down in one of the armchairs and try to think of nothing at all! ”
    Thankfully Rosamund sat down. That was easy enough, but to think of nothing—that was impossible! Too much had happened since she had started out so hopefully that morning.
    She had laid her plans so carefully! Aunt Ruth, proprietress of one of London’s most exclusive dress salons, had gone to Paris for a week, leaving Rosamund in charge and with urgent instructions to make absolutely sure that every dress they had designed and created for one of the biggest weddings of the season was absolutely perfect. In fact, everything went without a hitch, and in the evening Rosamund rang her aunt up at her hotel and reported to that effect.
    “And I had quite a long talk afterwards at the reception with Mrs. Castleford,” she went on to say. “You know, the wife of the American financier. They expect to be over here for