"Strategy, my dear Brill," he said, smiling; "strategy. Now why waste
your time? Why not make some other woman happy? Why not try her
companion, Miss Philpotts? I'm sure any little assistance--"

The Major's attitude was so alarming that the sentence was never
finished, and a second later the speaker found himself alone, watching
his irate friend hurrying frantically down the path, knocking the blooms
off the geraniums with his cane as he went. He saw no more of him for
several weeks, the Major preferring to cherish his resentment in the
privacy of his house. The Major also refrained from seeing the widow,
having a wholesome dread as to what effect the contemplation of her
charms might have upon his plighted word.

He met her at last by chance. Mrs. Riddel bowed coldly and would have
passed on, but the Major had already stopped, and was making wild and
unmerited statements about the weather.

"It is seasonable," she said, simply.

The Major agreed with her, and with a strong-effort regained his
composure.

"I was just going to turn back," he said, untruthfully; "may I walk with
you?"

"I am not going far," was the reply.

With soldierly courage the Major took this as permission; with feminine
precision Mrs. Riddel walked about fifty yards and then stopped. "I told
you I wasn't going far," she said sweetly, as she held out her hand.