for Dulcie, I left her a few minutes ago over by
the wall-fountain in the rose arbour."

"Thanks," he said, and turned back through the hall, traversing it to
the north veranda.

There was no sign of Dulcie in the garden or on the lawn. He walked
slowly across the clipped grass, beyond the pool, and, turning to the
right past a sun-dial, stepped into the long rose-arbour. At the
further end of the blossoming tunnel he saw her seated on the low wall
in the rear of the tea-house. Her head was turned toward the woods
beyond.

When he was near her she heard him and looked around, was on the point
of rising, but something in his expression held her motionless.

"Where have you been, Garry?"

He ignored the question, seated himself beside her on the wall, and
drew both her hands into his. He saw the swift colour stain her face,
the lovely, disconcerted eyes lower.

"Last night," he said, "did you come back as you promised?"

"Yes."

"And you found me gone."

She nodded.

"What could you have thought of me, Dulcie?"

"I--my thoughts were--not very clear."

"Are they clearer?"

Her head remained lowered but she raised her grey eyes to his. Her
face had become very still and white.

"Dulcie," he said under his breath, "I am in love with you.... What
will you do about it?"

And, after a little while:

"W-what shall I do, Garry?" she whispered.

"Love me. Can you?"

She remained silent.

"Will you?--Dulcie Fane!"

Her lips stirred, but no sound came.

"You are so wonderful," he said. "I am just realising that I began to
fall in love with you a long time ago."

The declining sun sent a red shaft across the fields, painting every
tree-trunk, gilding bramble and brake. A single ray touched the girl's
white neck and turned her copper-tinted hair to burning gold.

"Do you love me? Can you love me, that way, Dulcie?"

She rose abruptly, and he rose too, retaining her hands; but as she
turned her head from him he saw her mouth quiver.

"Dearest--dearest!" But she interrupted him:

"I want to tell you--that I don't understand why I should be called by
my mother's maiden name.... I w-want you to know that I _don't_
understand it ... if that would make a difference--in your c-caring
for me.... And I wish you to know that--that I love and worship her
memory--and that I am happy and proud--and _proud_--to bear her
name."

"My darling----"

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dulcie."

"And do you still wan