ld have told them after the
wedding!"

I was afraid that she would have been quite capable of such villainy
where Margaret was in question, and not altogether averse from a
_denoument_ so dramatic.

"Either Lacey's shirked the interview--or it's been a very long one," I
remarked, as the clock over the stables struck half-past ten. "Poor
Dormer's home by now--to solitude!"

"Oh, bother Mr. Dormer and his solitude! Listen, do you hear hoofs?"

"I can't say I do," I rejoined, lighting my pipe.

"How you can smoke!" she exclaimed scornfully. Really I could not do
anything else--in view of the tension.

A voice came from above our heads: "Jenny, are there any signs?"

"Not yet, dear," called Jenny, and waved her arms despairingly. "Ah!"
She held up her hand and rose quickly to her feet. Now we heard the
distant sound of hoofs. "I wonder if he's written to me or to her!" She
started walking toward the drive.

"To you, I'll be bound!" I answered as I followed.

In a few moments the groom rode up. Jenny was waiting for him, took the
letter from him, and opened it.

"No answer," she said. "Thank you. You'll ask them to give you a glass
of beer, won't you?"

The man thanked her, touched his hat, and rode off to the servants'
quarters.

"In old days the bearer of bad tidings wouldn't have got a glass of
beer," I suggested.

"The tidings are doubtful." She gave me the letter: "He is terribly cut
up. He promises me an answer to-morrow. I haven't told him yet that I
must stick to it _anyhow_. That's for to-morrow, too, if it must come.
My love to her.--AMYAS."

"It'd be so much better if he never had to say that," Jenny reflected
thoughtfully.

Certainly it would. If the thing could be managed without a rupture,
without defiance on the one side or an unyielding posture on the other,
it would be much more comfortable for everybody afterwards.

"Still, you know, he's ready to do it if he must." Her pride in her
romantic handiwork spoke again.

Suddenly Margaret was with us, out of breath from her run downstairs,
gasping out a prayer for the letter. Jenny gave it to her, and she read
it. She looked up to Jenny with terrified eyes.

"He mustn't do it for me. I must give him up, Jenny," she murmured,
woefully forlorn.

Very gently, just the least scornfully, Jenny answered, "We don't give
things up at Breysgate." She stooped and kissed her. "Go and dream that
it's all right. It will be by this time to-morrow. Aus