er.

Grace made many sinister allusions to her fancied departure. "Ah, in
November ... Oh! of course I shall not be here then!" or, "That will be
in the autumn then, won't it? You'd better give it to some one who will
be here at the time." With every allusion she scored a victory. It was
evident that Paul was terrified by the thought that she should leave
him. He did not see what he would do without her. His world would
tumble to pieces.

"But she hasn't the remotest intention of going," said Maggie. "She'll
never go."

"Well, I don't know. It would be strange without her, Maggie, I must
confess. You see, all our lives we've been together--all our lives."

Nevertheless he felt perhaps some relief, in spite of himself, when
they were safely in a train for Little Harben. It was rather a relief,
just for a day or two, not to see Grace's reproachful face. Yes, it
was. He was quite gay, almost like the boy he used to be. Little Harben
was one of the smallest villages in Wiltshire and its Rectory one of
the most dilapidated. The Rectory was sunk into the very bottom of a
green well. Green hills rose on every side above it, green woods
pressed in all around it, a wild, deserted green garden crept up to the
windows and clambered about the old walls. There was hardly any
furniture in the house, and many many windows all without curtains.
Long looking-glasses reflected the green garden at every possible angle
so that all the lights and shadows in the house were green. There was a
cat with green eyes, and the old servant was so aged and infirm that
she was, spiritually if not physically, covered with green moss.

From their bedroom they could see the long green slope of the hill.
Everywhere there was a noise of birds nestling amongst the leaves, of
invisible streams running through the grass, of branches mysteriously
cracking, and, always, in the distance some one seemed to be chopping
with an axe. If you pushed a window open multitudes of little insects
fell in showers about you. All the roses were eaten with green flies.

"What a place!" said Maggie; nevertheless it was rather agreeable after
the sand of Skeaton.

During the first three days they preserved their attitude of friendly
distance. On the fourth evening Maggie desperately flung down her
challenge. They were sitting, after supper, in the wild deserted
garden. It was a wonderful evening, faintly blue and dim crocus with
flickering silver stars. The last birds tw