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A primrose by a river's brim, a yellow primrose was to me at that moment. But soon it was something more, for as I languidly superintended the extraction of minor baggage from my compartment and major impedimenta from the luggage-van, I saw from the tail of my eye that she was taking note of me and my mild activities. Evidently she was not proceeding by this train; apparently she was waiting for someone and... yes... obviously and positively, she was waiting for me. I was almost as surprised as delighted when, approaching and extending a tiny gloved hand, she gave me a smile that immediately won my heart as the writers of books have it.

"Do say you are Mr. Waring," she begged beseechingly, gazing at my face with eyes as clear, confiding and beautiful as human eyes have any need to be.

"I would, in any case," I replied, raising my hat. "I will. I do."

"You am, in fact," she laughed.

"I are," I agreed.

"I'm so glad," said Lady Calderton, and somehow I was then and there, in that moment of our first meeting, more than glad.