en be a good quack.
Come along, let's go out and look at the tulips."

"You _will_ glance through my poems?" Guy asked, diffidently.

The Rector stood up and put his hand on the poet's shoulder.

"Of course I will, my dear boy, and you mustn't be deceived by the
manner of that shy old boor, the Rector of Wychford. Do what you think
you ought to do, and make my youngest daughter happy. We shall be having
her birthday before we know where we are."

"It's to-morrow!"

"Is it indeed? May Day. Of course. I remember last year I managed to
bloom _Iris lorteti_. But this year, no! That wet May destroyed _Iris
lorteti_. A delicate creature. Rose and brown. A delicate, lovely
creature."

Guy and the Rector pored over the tulips awhile, where in serried
borders they displayed their somber sheen of amaranth and amethyst; then
Guy strolled off to hear what was the news of Margaret and Richard.
Pauline came flying to meet him down one of the long, straight garden
paths.

"Darling, they are to be married early in August," she cried.

He caught her to him and kissed her, lest in the first poignant
realization of other people's joy she might seem to be escaping from him
utterly.

Guy had a few minutes with Margaret before he went home that evening,
and they walked beside the tulip borders, she tall and dark and
self-contained in the fading light, being strangely suited by
association with such flowers.

"Dear Margaret," he said, "I want to tell you how tremendously I like
Richard. Now that sounds patronizing. But I'm speaking quite humbly.
These sort of Englishmen have been celebrated enough, perhaps, and
lately there's been a tendency to laugh at them, but, my God! what is
there on earth like the Richards of England? Margaret, you once very
rightly reproved me for putting Pauline in a silver frame, do let me
risk your anger and beg you never to put yourself in a silver frame from
which to look out at Richard."

"You do rather understand me, don't you?" she said, offering him her
hand.

"Help Pauline and me," he begged.

"Haven't I always helped you?"

"Not always, but you will now that you yourself are no longer uncertain
about your future. The moment you find yourself perfectly happy you'll
be longing for every one else to be the same."

"But how haven't I helped you?" she persisted.

"It would be difficult to explain in definite words. But I don't think
my idea of your attitude towards us could have been entirel