and now if ever was his opportunity. It was a long straggling
meadow which he knew well, with the Dill running by it all the
way,--or rather two meadows with an open space where there had once
been a gate. He had ridden through the gap a score of times, and
knew that at the further side of the second meadow they would come
upon the high road. The fields were certainly much better for his
purpose than the road. "Don't you think, Mary, you could say a kind
word to me?"

"I never said anything unkind."

"You can't think ill of me for loving you better than all the
world."

"I don't think ill of you at all. I think very well of you."

"That's kind."

"So I do. How can I help thinking well of you, when I've never
heard anything but good of you?"

"Then why shouldn't you say at once that you'll have me, and make
me the happiest man in all the county?"

"Because--"

"Well!"

"I told you before, Mr. Twentyman, and that ought to have been
enough. A young woman doesn't fall in love with every man that she