He was only too pleased. She bade a laughing adieu to the duchess, and
smiled at Lord Arleigh. There was no trace of pain or of sadness in her
voice or face. They went away together and Lord Arleigh never even
dreamed that she had heard his remark.

Then the duchess left him, and he sat under the spreading beech alone.
His thoughts were not of the pleasantest nature; he did not like the
general belief in his approaching marriage; it was fair neither to
himself nor to Philippa--yet how was he to put an end to such gossip?
Another idea occurred to him. Could it be possible that Philippa herself
shared the idea? He would not believe it. Yet many things made him pause
and think. She certainly evinced great preference for his society; she
was never so happy as when with him. She would give up any engagement,
any promised gayety or pleasure to be with him. She dressed to please
him; she consulted him on most things; she seemed to identify her
interests with his. But all this might be the result of their old
friendship--it might have nothing to do with love.

Could it be possible that she still remembered the childish nonsense
that had passed between them--that she considered either herself or him
bound by a foolish tie that neither of them had contracted? Could it be
possible that she regarded herself as engaged to him? The bare idea of
it seemed absurd to him; he could not believe it. Yet many little things
that he could not explain to himself made him feel uncomfortable and
anxious. Could it be that she, the most beautiful and certainly the most
popular woman in London, cared so much for him as to hold him by so
slender a tie as their past childish nonsense?

He reproached himself for the thought, yet, do what he would, he could