den door opening on the flagged
path.

He came towards her with outstretched hands, looked round him
smiling to see that no one was in sight, and then kissed her. Beryl
knew she ought to have resisted the kiss; she had meant to do it;
but all the same she submitted.

'Your father met us at the door. Arthur has carried Pamela off
somewhere. Very sporting of them, wasn't it? So I've got you alone!
How nice you look! And what a jolly place this is!'

He first looked her up and down with admiring eyes, and then made a
gesture towards the beautiful modern house, and the equally
beautiful and modern gardens in which it stood, with their still
unspoilt autumn flowers, their cunning devices in steps and
fountains and pergolas.

'How on earth do you keep it so trim?' He put a hand through her
arm, and drew her on towards the wood-walk which opened beyond the
formal garden and the lawn.

'With two or three old men, and two girls from the village,' said
Beryl. 'Father doesn't mind what he gives up so long as it isn't the
garden.'

'It's his pet vice!' laughed Aubrey--'his public-house, like my
father's Greek pots. I say--you've heard of the secretary?'

It seemed to Beryl that he was fencing with her--delaying their real
talk. But she accepted his lead.

'Yes, Desmond seems to like her. I don't gather that Pamela cares
very much about her.'

'Oh, Pamela takes time. But what do you think the secretary did last
night?'

'What?' They had paused under a group of limes clad in a glory of
yellow leaf, and she was looking up in surprise at the unusual
animation playing over the features of the man beside her.

'She refused to sign a codicil to my father's will, disinheriting
me, and came to tell me so this morning! You should have heard her!
Very formal and ceremonious--very much on her dignity! But such a
brick!'

Mannering's deep-set eyes under his lined thinker's brow shone with
amusement. Beryl, with the instinctive jealousy of a girl in love,
was conscious of a sudden annoyance that Miss Bremerton should have
been mixed up in Aubrey's personal affairs.

'What _do_ you mean?'

Aubrey put an arm round her shoulder. She knew she ought to shake it
off, but the pressure of it was too welcome. They strolled on.

'I had my talk with father last night. I told him he was absurd, and
I was my own master. That you were perfectly free to give me
up--that I had begged you to consider it--but I didn't think you
would,' he s