"Oh, he's all right."

"That was a very cruel letter you wrote me, Gladys."

"I was afraid you'd think it rude," she answered apologetically.

"No, dear. It isn't rude to refuse a proposal. You can't accept them all, can you?"

"You've made a wretched tea, Mr. Vaughan. Is there anything else you'd like?"

"Yes, I want to go in the field again, like the day before yesterday."

"Was it only the day before yesterday? So it was. A lot seems to ave appened since. Well, come along."

She looked such an absolute child as she climbed the gate that Gillie felt almost ashamed of his proposal, and thought that probably her father was quite right.... But her face was so exactly like Sir Joshua Reynolds' angels' heads, she might have sat for them. She was too absurdly pretty. And sweet, too, he thought. She had no vulgar pretensions, she was simple. She only wanted a little polish. He could teach her everything necessary. No task could have been more congenial....

"So you think I'm too old for you. Is that it?"

"No, it isn't. It isn't that. It's what father told you."

"Would you hate to go for a long journey with me, to see other places, other countries?"

"Oh no; I'd like it. We went to Clacton last summer. It _was_ fun."

He thought a little.

"Gladys, as you're so young, won't you leave the whole thing in abeyance for a time?"

"In what, did you say?"

"Undecided. Let me come and talk to you about it in six months. The only thing I can't bear you to do is to be a manicure. I'm going to speak to your mother about it. I can't stand it."

"Oh, why, Mr. Vaughan? I should have thought it was nice for me to sort of better myself."

"Nonsense. Far better stay here. Well, will you agree to that?"

"To give up the manicuring and to leave the engagement open like? Is that what you mean?"

"That's the idea."

She thought a minute.

"I really don't see how I can. And--my boy would feel it something cruel if I put him off like that."

"When do you see him?" he asked jealously.

"Why, on Sundays. Only on Sundays."

"Ah, that's why I've never seen him. I wondered why I'd never met my hated rival."

She laughed.

"Oh, now, you're going on silly, like the people in the play!... I don't believe you alf mean it."

"Don't you believe I love you?"

"How can you? You don't ardly know me, except as a friend."

"I'll tell you why I love you if you like, dearest."

"Well, why?" She spoke with girlish curiosity.

"Because you're lovely, and lovable, and sweet. Because you're a darling."

"Oh, I say!"

"Doesn't your boy, as you call him, say these things to you?"

"Not like that. I only see him on Sundays."

"And does he kiss you on Sundays?"

"Oh yes."

Vaughan got up.

"All right, I won't worry you any more.... I'll let you be happy in your own way, dear.... I must go now."

"Oh, _must_ you?"

She seemed very disappointed.

"Yes, I'm going to France."

"What, to-day?"

"No, next week."

"Oh, I am sorry."

"Good-bye, dear."

He went in and bid adieu to Mr. and Mrs. Brill and the "Bald-faced Stag"

for ever. He said to her father that he was resigned.

As soon as he had gone, Gladys went upstairs to her room, looked in the gla.s.s, then burst out crying.

She had fallen in love with Gillie.