you're not--happy with me?"

"I'll take my chance of that," said Fletcher Hill. He added, under his
breath, "I'll be good to you--in any case."

That moved her. She lifted her face impulsively. "You--you are much nicer
than I thought you were," she said.

He bent to her. "It isn't very difficult to be that," he said, with a
somewhat sardonic touch of humour. "I haven't a very high standard to
beat, have I?"

It was not very lover-like. Perhaps, he feared to show her too much of
his soul just then, lest he seem to be claiming more than she was
prepared to offer. Perhaps that reserve of his which clothed him like
a coat of mail was more than even he could break through. But so it was
that then--just then, when the desire of his heart was actually within
his grasp, he contented himself with taking a very little. He kissed her,
indeed, though it was but a brief caress--over before her quivering lips
could make return; nor did he seek to deter her as she withdrew herself
from his arms.

She stood a moment, looking small and very forlorn. Then she turned to
retrace her steps.

"Shall we go back?" she said.

He went back with her in silence till they reached the gate that led into
the yard. Then for a second he grasped her arm, detaining her.