making love to you. Of course I know he hasn't. I'm not suggesting so rotten a thing as a flirtation. Probably you neither of you have dreamed of it yet. But I have. You see I'm an outsider. And if there's anything in it, I wish you'd tell me. I wouldn't stand in your way. I don't think I could blame you. I must be a dull dog to live with. He sees more of life than I do—he's got more to talk about. All I jaw about is the country. I can't talk of anything else. I suppose I should understand it—but I'd like to know."

I dared not move by this. If I could have crawled away without being heard, I would have done so; but there was a gravel path to walk down. They would have heard my footsteps on that. So I turned over and shut my eyes—tried to go to sleep again; but that was out of the question. I heard every word when Bellwattle replied.

"You'd let me go?" she said.

"If it made you happy," he replied.

And in that answer, in the very tone of his voice, I heard the signs of the struggle through which he had won to arrive at this generous spirit of renunciation.

"But do you think it would?" said she.

"I don't know."

Something happened then. I did not find it difficult to guess what it was. Her arms were round his neck in an impetuous rush; her face was close against his. That at least is how I interpreted the sounds which reached my ears.

"You dear old thing—why you're more than everything to me. I don't want you to talk of anything but the country. I love that better than any other subject in the world, and when you talk of it, it makes me feel that every little weed is beautiful." Then she laughed. "And you think I'm in love with that dear, nice, ugly creature! Why, I shouldn't imagine any woman has ever been in love with him in his life. That's why I feel so sorry for him. A woman would have to get to know him so well, to forget how ugly he was. And no woman would ever take the trouble. But just because we go out every evening, you think I'm getting fond of him. Do you know why we go out?"

Probably Cruikshank shook his head, for there was no reply.

"You know that invalid who's staying at the Fennells'—the little girl from the West Indies? He's in love with her. He hasn't told me a word about it. I should think he's too sensitive about his ugliness to even say that he was in love. 

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