did." After a minute he
continued briskly. "Whatever made him think of Maud? She must have been
jolly different to him from what she is to us. You know what I mean,
Leo. If he thinks he is going to marry a saint----"

"Oh, Val, don't. You mustn't. You haven't said anything about this to
other people?" said Leo, in great agitation, "you haven't, have you?"

"Rather not. Give you my word. I have been bursting with it ever
since--and if my gran had known she'd have got it out of me sure as
fate--but she doesn't care twopence about Foster, and is only glad it
isn't you."

"Do leave me out of the question. I--I--why should you think of me at
all?"

"Gran keeps me up to it. She goes on praising you. You see I never told
her about _that_, Leo, and she still thinks--you know what," and he
nodded significantly. "This marriage has set her going again."

After a pause it was: "You aren't making much of a dinner, Leo. You say
'no' to everything. What's put you off your feed?"

"Too much afternoon-tea probably. No, it's not that," said Leo,
correcting the fib. "I'm not hungry, that's all."

"This venison is awfully good. Where did it come from? You generally do
have venison about this time, I know. I have eaten it here before in
October."

"Have you?"

"Where does it come from?"--reiterated he.

"From an old cousin, Anthony Boldero. We have no one else who sends us
venison."

"Respects to him. His venison is A1. Leo?"

"Well?" said Leo, in a hard, dry tone. She recognised what was coming.

"It isn't me, it isn't anything I've been saying that bothers you?"

But at the same moment Leo's neighbour on her other hand spoke to her.

She was partly glad and partly sorry for this--glad because it relieved
her from embarrassment, but sorry because it might be difficult, and
indeed it proved impossible, to lead the erratic Val back to the same
point thereafter.

He had delivered himself of all he had to say on the matter, and he had
a talkative damsel on the other side who having been already somewhat
affronted by his neglect, was resolved to endure it no longer. The two
were soon in full tide of conversation; and though Leo had her turn once
and again when Miss Merivale was attacked by her other neighbour, she
could not all in a brief moment resume a dialogue of such import as the
above. She thought Val was approaching it once, however.

"That's a fine dog of his--of Foster's."

"Lion? Yes, a delightful dog."

"It's