rful at this notion and under the influence of
the encouragement he had received seemed at last on the point of getting
out what he wanted to say, but he could manage nothing more confidential
than a tug at his bristled fair mustache.

"When are you and Margaret going to be married?" Guy asked, abruptly,
for, of course, he had guessed that it was Margaret's name which was
continually on the tip of his tongue.

"By Jove! there you are! I'm rather stumped," said Richard, gloomily.
"You see, the thing is ... well ... I suppose you know that when I
started off to India last June year, Margaret and I were sort of engaged
... at least I was certainly engaged to her, only she hadn't absolutely
made up her mind about me ... and, of course, that's just what you'd
expect would happen to a chap like me ... dash it all! Hazlewood, I'm
afraid to ask her again!"

"I don't think you need be," said Guy. "Of course we haven't discussed
you, except very indirectly," he hastily added, "but I'm positive that
Margaret is only waiting for you to ask her to marry her on some
definite day; on some definite day, Ford, that's the great thing to
remember."

"You mean I ought to say, 'Margaret, will you marry me on the twelfth of
August, or the first of September? That's your notion, is it?"

Guy nodded.

"By gad! I'll ask her to-day," said Richard.

"And you'll be engaged to-morrow," Guy prophesied.

"When are you and Pauline going to be married?"

Guy looked up quickly to see if the solid Richard were laughing at him,
but there was nothing in those steel-blue eyes except the most
benevolent inquiry.

"That's the question," said Guy. "Writing is not quite such a certainty
as bridge-building."

"You mean there's the difficulty of money? By Jove! that's bad luck,
isn't it? Still, you know, I expect that having the good fortune to have
Pauline in love with you.... Well, I expect, you've got to expect a bit
of difficulty somewhere, you know. You know, Pauline was...." he stopped
and blinked at the window.

"Pauline's awfully fond of you," Guy said, encouragingly.

"Hazlewood, that kid's been.... Well, I can't express myself, you know,
but I'd.... Well, I really can't talk about her."

"I understand, though," said Guy. "Look here, you'll stay and have
lunch with me, and then we can go across to the Rectory afterwards."

Emotional subjects were tacitly put on one side to talk of the birds and
butterflies that one might expect to find