ays. He is writing a book. Perhaps, if you are very
polite to him, he will let you publish it. Mr. Bomford--Mr. Burton."

The two men shook hands solemnly. Neither of them expressed any
pleasure at the meeting.

"I am sure you would like a drink," Edith suggested. "Let me take you
up to the house and we can find father. You won't mind, Mr. Burton?"

"Not in the least," he assured her.

They disappeared into the house. Burton threw himself once more upon
the lawn, his hands clasped behind his head, gazing upwards through the
leafy boughs to the blue sky. So this was Mr. Bomford! This was the
rival of whom he had heard! Not so very formidable a person, not
formidable at all save for one thing only--he was free to marry her,
free to marry Edith. Burton lay and dreamed in the sunshine. A thrush
came out and sang to him. A west wind brought him wafts of perfume from
the gardens below. The serenity of the perfect afternoon mocked his
disturbed frame of mind. What was the use of it all? The longer he
remained here the more abject he became! . . . Suddenly Edith
reappeared alone. She came across the lawn to him with a slight frown
upon her forehead. He lay there and watched her until the last moment.
Then he rose and dragged out a chair for her.

"So the lovers' interview is over!" he ventured to observe. "You do not
seem altogether transported with delight."

"I am very much pleased indeed to see Mr. Bomford," she assured him.

"I," he murmured, "am glad that I have seen him."

Edith looked at him covertly.

"I do not think," she said, "that I quite approve of your tone this
afternoon."

"I am quite sure," he retorted, "that I do not approve of yours."

She made a little grimace at him.

"Let us agree, then, to be mutually dissatisfied. I do wish," she added
softly, "that I knew why father had sent for Mr. Bomford. It is
nothing to do with his work, I am sure of that. He knows that Paul
hates coming away from the office on week days."

Burton groaned.

"Is his name Paul?"

"Certainly it is," she answered.

"It sounds very familiar."

"It is nothing of the sort; when you are engaged to a person, you
naturally call him by his Christian name. I can't think, though, why
father didn't tell us that he was coming."

"I have an idea," Burton declared, "that his coming has something to do
with me."

"With you?

"Why not? Am I not an interesting subject for speculation? Mr.
Bomford, you told me only a few days