hip, but no structure
had she succeeded in raising thereon. He asked nothing of her, and, save
for material comforts, he bestowed nothing in return. True, it was what
she had bargained for. But yet it did not satisfy her. She was not at
her ease with him, and she began to think she never would be.

As to Hugh, she hardly knew how to proceed; but she finally wrote him a
friendly note, concurring with his suggestion that they should not meet
again for a little while--"only for a little while, Hugh," she added,
almost in spite of herself, "for I can't afford to lose a friend like
you."

And she did not guess how the heart-cry of her loneliness echoed through
the words.

CHAPTER IX

THE WAY TO BE HAPPY

It was not until the week before Christmas that Doris saw Hugh again.
They met in the hunting-field. It was the first hunt she had attended
since her marriage, and she went to it alone.

The meet was some distance away, and she arrived after the start,
joining the ranks of the riders as they waited outside a copse which the
hounds were drawing.

The day was chill and grey. She did not altogether know why she went,
save that the loneliness at the Mill House seemed to become daily harder
to bear, and the longing to escape it, if only for a few hours, was not
to be denied.

She was scarcely in a sporting mood, and the sight of old acquaintances,
though they greeted her kindly enough, did not tend to raise her
spirits.

The terrible conviction had begun to grow upon her of late that she had
committed a great mistake that no effort of hers could ever remedy, and
the thought of it weighed her down perpetually night and day.

But the sight of Hugh as he came to her along the edge of the wood was
a welcome one. She greeted him almost with eagerness, and the friendly
grasp of his hand sent warmth to her lonely young heart.

"I am very glad to see you following the hounds," Hugh said. "Are you
alone?"

"Quite alone," she said, feeling a lump rise in her throat.

"Then you'll let me take care of you," he said, with a friendly smile.

And she could but smile and thank him.

It was not a particularly satisfactory day from a fox-hunting point of
view. The weather did not improve, and the scent was misleading. They
found and lost, found and lost again, and a cold drizzle setting in with
the afternoon effectually cooled the ardour of even the most
enthusiastic.

Yet Doris enjoyed herself. She and Hugh ate their