"All your fault? What do you mean?"

"That you and Chris are not happy ..."

Her face quivered sensitively, then she said very gently:

"You mustn't think that--please! All you did was to let me know a little sooner than I should have done if I hadn't overheard what you said. And I'm glad, really glad, about it now! It would have hurt much more if I'd not found out for some time afterwards. You see"--she paused a moment to steady her voice--"you see, Chris never really loved me, and that's all about it."

"No wonder you hate me," he said again heavily.

"I don't hate you--in fact, I should like to tell you something, Mr. Dakers, then perhaps you won't feel so badly about it. May I?"

"Well?" The monosyllable came gruffly.

"It's just that the one good thing that has happened to me since-- since I married Chris--is having met you! I shall always be glad of that, no matter what happens, for you've been such a kind friend.

Please believe me."

Dakers looked down at the hand resting on his arm.

"Do you believe in friendship between a man and woman, Mrs.

Lawless?" he asked, in a queer voice.

"Oh, yes!" said Marie, fervently. "Don't you?"

"I am not sure."

She looked up in dismay.

"But you said--I thought you said ..."

He broke in abruptly.

"Look at the view on your left." She turned her head obediently and gave a little exclamation of delight. The high hedge had suddenly ended, leaving only a wide expanse of meadows that sloped down to a river flowing at the bottom of a high wooded hill.

Some women in picturesque cotton frocks were tossing the hay in one of the meadows, and the scent of it was wafted through the sunshine.

Marie clasped her hands like a delighted child.

"I did so hope we should see them making hay," she said. "Oh, do you think we might go and help?"

She had forgotten their previous serious conversation, to Feathers'

infinite relief. He laughed as he answered that he did not think they could very well suggest giving any a.s.sistance.

"I want to take you much further, too," he said. "I know an inn where we can get a lunch fit for a king, and any amount of cream and things like that."

"I love cream," said Marie.

She leaned back beside him contentedly, and fell into a day dream.

The easy droning of the engine was very soothing, and the soft air on her face seemed to blow away all the cobwebs and perplexities that had worried her during the past two months. For a little time she gave herself up to the restfulness of it all and the simple enjoyment.

Feathers let her alone. He was not a talkative man, and he only spoke now and again to point out some exquisite bit of scenery or tell her something of the surrounding country.

"You know it well, then?" she asked, and he said that he and Chris had often motored that way together.

Her husband's name gave Marie a stab of pain. For a little while she had resolutely pushed him into the background of her thoughts.

She sat up when Feathers spoke of him, and the look of quiet contentment faded from her eyes.

What was Chris doing now? And why was he not here beside her instead of this man? Then she looked at Feathers' kind, ugly face and remorse smote her.

He was such a good friend. She knew she ought to be grateful to him for the un.o.btrusive help he had tried to give her.

But she could not resist one question: "You and Chris used to go about together a great deal?"

"Yes; nearly always."

"And now--I suppose I have spoilt it all. Have I?"

Feathers' face hardened. "I wish I could be sure that you had," was the answer that rose to his lips, but he checked it, and only said:

"I have told you you must not talk nonsense." He pointed ahead.

"That is the inn. I hope you are hungry."

He ran the car into a queer, cobble-stoned yard, and drew up at the door of the inn.

It was a very old house, with sloping roofs, on which lichen grew in short, thick clumps, and a straggly vine covered its weather-beaten face.

"I wired we were coming," Feathers said. "The people here know me."

He led the way into the parlor. It was bare-boarded with a trestle table running its full length, and wooden benches on either side, but everything was spotlessly clean, and Marie was delighted.

She had never seen an old fireplace with chimney corners like the one in this room. She had never seen such wonderful copper as the old shining pots and pans that hung on the walls.

The landlady was stout and smiling, with a face that shone with a generous application of soap, and she wore long amber earrings.

She seemed very pleased to see Feathers.

"It's a long time since you came to visit us, sir! And the other gentleman--Mr. Lawless--I hope he is well."

"I've just left him in Scotland," Feathers explained. "I dare say you will see him before long. He's been getting married, you know."

"Indeed, sir! I'm sure I wish him luck." She looked at Marie, and Feathers said hastily: "This is Mrs. Lawless."

He had a vivid recollection of another occasion when somebody had asked if he were Marie's husband, and he was not risking a repet.i.tion of it.

"Many people staying here, Mrs. Costin?" he asked.

"No, sir--only two ladies at present, but we expect to be full for the week-end." She looked at Marie. "There are fine golf links close to us," she explained.