conceded. "But I've seen lots as good before and since. He
weren't nothing so very extraordinary, Miss Sylvia."

Sylvia's look went beyond him, seeming to rest upon something very
far away. "He was to me, Jeffcott," she said. "We just--fitted
each other, he and I."

"And you was only eighteen," pleaded Jeffcott, "You wasn't
full-grown in those days."

"No?" A quick sigh escaped her; her look came back to him, and she
smiled. "Well, I am now anyway; and that's the one thing that
hasn't altered or grown old--the one thing that never could."

"Ah, dear!" said old Jeffcott. "What a pity now as you couldn't
take up with young Mr. Eversley or that Mr. Preston over the way,
or--or--any of them young gents with a bit of property as might be
judged suitable!"

Sylvia's laugh rang through the vinery, a gay, infectious laugh.

"Oh, really, Jeffcott! You talk as if I had only got to drop my
handkerchief for the whole countryside to rush to pick it up! I'm
not going to take up with anyone, unless it's Mr. Guy Ranger. You
don't seem to realize that we've been engaged all this time."

"Ah!" said old Jeffcott, looking sardonic. "And you not met for
five years! Do you ever wonder to yourself what sort of a man he
may be after five years, Miss Sylvia? It's a long time for a young
man to keep in love at a distance. It's a very long time."