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promised two balls a week with
minuets, a cotillion and country dances, as well as recitals and
theatrical entertainments. All this besides chatting with the
company in the coffee-rooms and meeting at the spring to drink the
waters of a morning.
    ‘ Not
that I should suppose, with so charming a complexion, you have any
need to do that,’ said Mr Tyson gallantly.
    Verity laughed. ‘No indeed, I am in excellent health. Though
I shall be surprised if it does not break down in all this gaiety.
Upon my word, I had not looked for such a round of
dissipation.’
    ‘ Well, well,’ the gentleman uttered, visibly gratified. ‘I
believe we are not quite in a decline.’
    ‘ Decline? I dare say I shall be obliged to leave you all to
your revels and take to my bed with a good book within the
week.’
    Laughing heartily at this pleasantry, Richard Tyson assured
her that in that case she might surely find some suitable tale on
the shelves of one of the two circulating libraries.
    ‘ I recall your sister—Miss Prudence , I think?— partaking very lavishly of such
delights some years ago.’
    ‘ Oh,
yes, Prue told me how happy she was to find all the latest
published novels immediately to hand. I shall certainly follow her
example.’
    ***
     
    It did not take many
days for Verity to become familiar with all there was to do and see
in the social centre of Tunbridge Wells. She very quickly became
acquainted with everyone, residents and visitors alike, and so was
instantly able to pick out an alien face as she hurried from the
Assembly Rooms to execute a commission for Lady Crossens.
    A light drizzle was
falling and, clutching her pelisse about her, she ran quickly
across the Walks towards the shelter of the colonnade on the other
side. She stood for a moment, shaking off the drops and pushing her
hood back off her dark curls. She caught sight as she did so of
someone standing before one of the shop windows, looking at the
wares displayed there.
    At
once she knew he was a stranger, and choked back the automatic
greeting with which everyone saluted one another as they met in the
street. The place was all but deserted on this inclement morning,
and she hesitated a moment or two, uncertain whether to proceed.
Then the man turned his head at some slight sound she made and
shock rippled through her.
    It
was he! That same pale face under the plain beaver hat. She could
not mistake. And as her eyes dropped down as if to verify the fact,
she noted the cane, which had been slightly hidden by the folds of
his greatcoat, on which he leaned a little.
    She
saw the startled recognition leap into his eyes and knew a moment
of sheer panic. Should she greet him? What could she say? That
awkward meeting at which she had not hesitated to lash out at him!
And the brief, sardonic comment he had made that showed how
mannerless he had thought her conduct.
    The whole, almost
forgotten scene flashed back to her in vivid detail and she felt
her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. Heavens, she must get
away!
    Her
errand was to Mr Sprange’s place and her way unfortunately led past
the shop where the gentleman stood. Lowering her gaze to the
paving, she began to move. But, in spite of herself, she could not
resist a peep up at him as she passed. It was a mistake. Her eyes
looked straight into those black ones and her feet stopped of their
own volition. It was only for a brief moment she hovered thus, but
he lifted a hand to his beaver and doffed it, bowing
slightly.
    Verity’s cheeks flamed anew. She gave the tiniest of nods in
response and hurried on, her heart thudding so hard that she felt
breathless.
    Absurd! What in the world was the matter with her? The man
was a monster. Had she not intervened, he would undoubtedly have
beaten that poor little boy Braxted. She had no reason to feel
discomfited. It was, on the contrary, he who should feel mortified,
meeting once more the stranger who had been obliged to take him to
task.
    It
occurred to her suddenly that