servation demanded it, and again
demanded silence. Their voices seemed to him far away, speaking in
some fairy orchard where he was not. He could barely hear them.

"You'll pretend not to know anything about it till to-morrow, won't
you?" she pleaded. "Don't spoil my day. It isn't that it won't be
perfectly lovely to be engaged, but the past has been, lovely too, and
I want to keep it a tiny bit longer. You'll help me, won't you?"

"Yes, I'll help you."

If he could but keep to-day forever shut in his heart with her, though
life crumbled to ruins about them! But the invincible hours were
ranged against him, and would claim it their own.

"And you'll take me to the sea?"

"Yes, if you come at once."

She descended from her perch with his help. She did not know his hands
felt numb and dead as he held and released her.

"You haven't told me the second thing about yourself," she remarked,
brushing the bark and lichen from her dress.

"It will keep," he said quietly.

And they went out of the orchard.

CHAPTER XVIII

Whatever may have been the pressing business that caused Peter Masters
to seek his cousin's company in so speedy a manner, the immediate
necessity of it seemed to have evaporated on the journey. He sat
talking of various things to Aymer and Charles Aston, but uttered
nothing as to the reason of his visit, and Mr. Aston, with his eye on
Aymer, chafed a little and found it hard to maintain his usual
serenity. Aymer, on the contrary, seemed more deliberate and placid
than usual; there was a slowness in his speech, and an unusual
willingness to leave the conversation in his visitor's hands as if he
mistrusted his own powers to keep it in desirable channels. He
appeared to have suddenly abdicated his position on the objective
positive side of life and to have become a mere passive instrument of
the hour, subjective and unresisting.

It was his father who was ready, armed against fate, alert, watchful
to ward off all that might harm or distress his eldest son. Peter
spoke of their exodus from London, their sojourn in the country, told
them anecdotes of big deals, and was, in his big, burly, shrewd way,
amusing and less ruthlessly tactless than usual. He had long ago given
up all hope of interesting Aymer in a financial career, but he
nevertheless retained a curiously respectful belief in his cousin's
mental powers.

"By the way," he said presently, "I've not bought a car yet. That boy
of your