was almost breathless.

'We had better go in now,' he said. 'There is a heavy dew, and you might
catch cold.'

A warm, scented gale came to them from beyond the walls. He longed to
ask her to stay out with him all night beneath the tree, that they might
whisper to one another, that the scent of her hair might inebriate him,
that he might feel her dress still brushing against his ankles. But he
could not find the words, and it was absurd, and she was so gentle that
she would do whatever he asked, however foolish it might be, just
because he asked her. He was not worthy to kiss her lips; he bent down
and kissed her silk bodice, and again he felt that she trembled, and he
was ashamed, fearing that he had frightened her.

They went slowly into the house, side by side, and Darnell lit the gas
in the drawing-room, where they always sat on Sunday evenings. Mrs.
Darnell felt a little tired and lay down on the sofa, and Darnell took
the arm-chair opposite. For a while they were silent, and then Darnell
said suddenly--

'What's wrong with the Sayces? You seemed to think there was something a
little strange about them. Their maid looks quite quiet.'

'Oh, I don't know that one ought to pay any attention to servants'
gossip. They're not always very truthful.'

'It was Alice told you, wasn't it?'

'Yes. She was speaking to me the other day, when I was in the kitchen in
the afternoon.'

'But what was it?'

'Oh, I'd rather not tell you, Edward. It's not pleasant. I scolded Alice
for repeating it to me.'

Darnell got up and took a small, frail chair near the sofa.

'Tell me,' he said again, with an odd perversity. He did not really care
to hear about the household next door, but he remembered how his wife's
cheeks flushed in the afternoon, and now he was looking at her eyes.

'Oh, I really couldn't tell you, dear. I should feel ashamed.'

'But you're my wife.'

'Yes, but it doesn't make any difference. A woman doesn't like to talk
about such things.'

Darnell bent his head down. His heart was beating; he put his ear to her
mouth and said, 'Whisper.'

Mary drew his head down still lower with her gentle hand, and her cheeks
burned as she whispered--

'Alice says that--upstairs--they have only--one room furnished. The maid
told her--herself.'

With an unconscious gesture she pressed his head to her breast, and he
in turn was bending her red lips to his own, when a violent jangle
clamoured through the silent house.