It came near enough for one to hear the voices of the men from town,
talking loudly together. It stopped at the Burnells' gate.

Stanley was half-way up the path before he saw Linda. "Is that you,
darling?"

"Yes, Stanley."

He leapt across the flower-bed and seized her in his arms. She was
enfolded in that familiar, eager, strong embrace.

"Forgive me, darling, forgive me," stammered Stanley, and he put his hand
under her chin and lifted her face to him.

"Forgive you?" smiled Linda. "But whatever for?"

"Good God! You can't have forgotten," cried Stanley Burnell. "I've
thought of nothing else all day. I've had the hell of a day. I made up my
mind to dash out and telegraph, and then I thought the wire mightn't reach
you before I did. I've been in tortures, Linda."

"But, Stanley," said Linda, "what must I forgive you for?"

"Linda!"--Stanley was very hurt--"didn't you realize--you must have
realized--I went away without saying good-bye to you this morning? I can't
imagine how I can have done such a thing. My confounded temper, of course.
But--well"--and he sighed and took her in his arms again--"I've suffered
for it enough to-day."

"What's that you've got in your hand?" asked Linda. "New gloves? Let me