somebody else's face she asked herself, in wonder, without rancor, why
nobody had ever cared for it. Why? Why? She could see her father looking
at her, intent, as if he wondered. And one day her mother said, "Do you
think you ought to see so much of Robin? Do you think it's quite fair to
Prissie?"

"Oh--_Mamma!_ ... I wouldn't. I haven't----"

"I know. You couldn't if you would, Hatty. You would always behave
beautifully. But are you so sure about Robin?"

"Oh, he _couldn't_ care for _anybody_ but Prissie. It's only
because he's so safe with me, because he knows I don't and he
doesn't----."

The wedding day was fixed for July. After all, they were going to risk it.
By the middle of June the wedding presents began to come in.

Harriett and Robin Lethbridge were walking up Black's Lane. The hedges
were a white bridal froth of cow's parsley. Every now and then she swerved
aside to pick the red campion.

He spoke suddenly. "Do you know what a dear little face you have, Hatty?
It's so clear and still and it behaves so beautifully."

"Does it?"

She thought of Prissie's face, dark and restless, never clear, never
still.