ho would give their eyes for your
chances," she urged.

"If their fathers had plenty of money like mine, they'd probably do as
I."

"Your father wants to see you worthy of it."

"I am. I've all sorts of expensive tastes."

Later, when they walked in the direction of Melkbridge, it seemed to
Mavis as if she were talking to a friend of many years; he seemed to
comprehend her so intimately that she felt wholly at home with him. He
had changed into his flannel suit, which had been dried before the inn
kitchen fire. He walked with his careless stride, his cap thrust into
his pocket. Now and again, Mavis found herself glancing at his fair
young face, his steely blue eyes, the wind-disturbed curls upon his
head. Their way led them past a field carpeted with cowslips.

"Oh, look!" she cried, delightedly.

"Cowslips! Are you keen on wildflowers?"

"They're the only ones I care for."

"I only care for artificial ones. Shall I get you some cowslips?"

"If you wouldn't mind. We'll both go."

They gathered between them a big bunch. Now and again they would race
like children for a promising clump.

"This bores you awfully," she remarked presently.

"I don't believe I've ever been so happy in my life," he replied
seriously.

"Nonsense!"

"A fact. Am I not with you?"

Mavis did not reply.

"And, again, it's all so natural, you and I being here alone with
nature; it's all so wonderful; one can forget the beastly worries of
life."

He spoke truly. Although it was getting late, the light persisted, as
if reluctant to leave the gladness of newborn things. All about her,
Mavis could see the trees were decked in fresh green foliage, virginal,
unsoiled; everywhere she saw a modest pride in unaffected beauty. Human
interests and emulations seemed to have no lot in this serenity: no
habitation was in sight; it was hard for Mavis to believe how near she
was to a thriving country town. Strange unmorality, with which
immersion in nature affects ardent spirits, influenced Mavis; nothing
seemed to matter beyond present happiness. She made Perigal carry the
cowslips, the while she frolicked with Jill. He watched her coolly,
critically, appraisingly; she had no conception how desirable she
appeared in his eyes. Lengthening shadows told them that it was time to
go home. They left the cowslip field regretfully to walk the remaining
two miles to Melkbridge.

"I want you to promise me something," she said, after some moments of