She led the way into the dining-room, and they sat down on opposite
sides of the table, the cruet-stand and japanned bread-basket between
them. Harney had laid his straw hat on the table, and as he sat there,
in his easy-looking summer clothes, a brown tie knotted under his
flannel collar, and his smooth brown hair brushed back from his
forehead, she pictured him, as she had seen him the night before, lying
on his bed, with the tossed locks falling into his eyes, and his bare
throat rising out of his unbuttoned shirt. He had never seemed so remote
as at the moment when that vision flashed through her mind.

"I'm so sorry it's good-bye: I suppose you know I'm leaving," he began,
abruptly and awkwardly; she guessed that he was wondering how much she
knew of his reasons for going.

"I presume you found your work was over quicker than what you expected,"
she said.

"Well, yes--that is, no: there are plenty of things I should have liked
to do. But my holiday's limited; and now that Mr. Royall needs the horse
for himself it's rather difficult to find means of getting about."

"There ain't any too many teams for hire around here," she acquiesced;
and there was another silence.

"These days here have been--awfully pleasant: I wanted to thank you for
making them so," he continued, his colour rising.

She could not think of any reply, and he went on: "You've been
wonderfully kind to me, and I wanted to tell you.... I wish I could think
of you as happier, less lonely.... Things are sure to change for you by