I trust," a familiar voice interposed, "for me."

Philippa sat upright at once, smoothed her hair and looked a little
resentfully at Lessingham. He was wearing a brown tweed knickerbocker
suit, and he carried a gun under his arm.

"Whatever are you doing up here," she demanded, "and do you know
anything about our game laws? You can't come out into the woods here and
shoot things just because you feel like it."

He disposed of his gun and seated himself between them.

"That is quite all right," he assured her. "Your neighbour, Mr.
Windover, to whom these woods apparently belong, asked me to bring my
gun out this morning and try and get a woodcock."

"Gracious! You don't mean that Mr. Windover is here, too?" Philippa
demanded, looking around. Lessingham shook his head.

"His car came for him at the other side of the wood," he explained. "He
was wanted to go on the Bench. I elected to walk home."

"And the woodcock?" she asked. "I adore woodcock."

He produced one from his pocket, took up her felt hat, which was lying
amongst the bracken, and busied himself insinuating the pin feathers
under the silk band.

"There," he said, handing it to her, "the first woodcock of the season.
We got four, and I really only accepted one in the hope that you would
like it. I shall leave it with the estimable Mills, on my return."

"You must come and share it," Philippa insisted. "Those boys of Nora's
are coming in to dinner. Your gift shall be the piece de resistance."

"Then may I dine another night?" he begged. "This place encourages in me
the grossest of appetites."

"Have no fear," she replied. "You will never see that woodcock again. I
shall have it for my luncheon to-morrow. I ordered dinner before I came
out, and though it may be a simple feast, I promise that you shall not
go away hungry."

"Will you promise that you will never send me away hungry?" he asked,
dropping his voice for a moment.

She turned and studied him. Helen, who had strolled a few yards away,
was knee-deep in the golden brown bracken, picking some gorgeously
coloured leaves from a solitary bramble bush. Lessingham had thrown his
cap onto the ground, and his wind-tossed hair and the unusual colour in
his cheeks were both, in their way, becoming. His loose but well-fitting
country clothes, his tie and soft collar, were all well-chosen and
suitable. She admired his high forehead and his firm, rather proud
mouth. His eyes as well as his tone were full