tching poor Bill away from him, who, however,
only floundered tumultuously back again, wild with joy. The two fought
together, the man laughing grudgingly, the dog grinning all over. Miriam
watched them. There was something pathetic about the man. He wanted so
badly to love, to be tender. The rough way he bowled the dog over was
really loving. Bill got up, panting with happiness, his brown eyes
rolling in his white face, and lumbered back again. He adored Paul. The
lad frowned.

"Bill, I've had enough o' thee," he said.

But the dog only stood with two heavy paws, that quivered with love,
upon his thigh, and flickered a red tongue at him. He drew back.

"No," he said--"no--I've had enough."

And in a minute the dog trotted off happily, to vary the fun.

He remained staring miserably across at the hills, whose still beauty
he begrudged. He wanted to go and cycle with Edgar. Yet he had not the
courage to leave Miriam.

"Why are you sad?" she asked humbly.

"I'm not sad; why should I be," he answered. "I'm only normal."

She wondered why he always claimed to be normal when he was
disagreeable.

"But what is the matter?" she pleaded, coaxing him soothingly.

"Nothing!"

"Nay!" she murmured.

He picked up a stick and began to stab the earth with it.

"You'd far better not talk," he said.

"But I wish to know--" she replied.

He laughed resentfully.

"You always do," he said.

"It's not fair to me," she murmured.

He thrust, thrust, thrust at the ground with the pointed stick, digging
up little clods of earth as if he were in a fever of irritation. She
gently and firmly laid her band on his wrist.

"Don't!" she said. "Put it away."

He flung the stick into the currant-bushes, and leaned back. Now he was
bottled up.

"What is it?" she pleaded softly.

He lay perfectly still, only his eyes alive, and they full of torment.

"You know," he said at length, rather wearily--"you know--we'd better
break off."

It was what she dreaded. Swiftly everything seemed to darken before her
eyes.

"Why!" she murmured. "What has happened?"

"Nothing has happened. We only realise where we are. It's no good--"

She waited in silence, sadly, patiently. It was no good being impatient
with him. At any rate, he would tell her now what ailed him.

"We agreed on friendship," he went on in a dull, monotonous voice. "How
often HAVE we agreed for friendship! And yet--it neither stops there,
nor gets anywhere else."