content with his post of under-gamekeeper; he desired to oust William
Hutchings from the post of head-gamekeeper, and though there were two
under-gamekeepers senior to him with a greater claim on that post, occupy
it himself. Here was the way to it; his lordship could not but be
grateful to the man who informed him of such goings-on; he could not but
promote him to the post of his desire.

He wholly misjudged his lordship. Ordinary gratitude was not one of his
attributes.

Olivia slipped out of Grey's arm, and they walked on up the aisle. But
they walked on, changed creatures--trembling, a little bemused.

William Roper, the ill-favoured minister of Nemesis, followed them.

At the top of the aisle they came to the pavilion, a small white marble
building in the Classic style, standing in the middle of a broad glade.

As they went into it, Olivia said wistfully: "It's a pity I couldn't have
tea sent here."

"I did. At least I brought it," said Grey, waving his hand towards a
basket which stood on the table. "I knew you'd be happier for tea."

"No one has ever been so thoughtful of me as you are," she said, gazing
at him with grateful, troubled eyes.

"Let's hope that your luck is changing," he said gravely, gazing at her
with eyes no less troubled.

Then Melchisidec scratched at the door and mewed. Olivia let him in.
Purring in the friendliest way, he rubbed his head against Grey's leg. He
never treated Lord Loudwater with such friendliness.

William Roper chose a tree about forty yards from the pavilion and set
his gun against the trunk. Then he filled and lit his pipe, leaned back
comfortably against the trunk, hidden by the fringe of undergrowth, and,
with his eyes on the door of the pavilion, waited. For Grey and Olivia,
never dreaming of this patient watcher, the minutes flew; they had so
many things to tell one another, so many questions to ask. At least Grey
had; Olivia, for the most part, listened without comment, unless the
flush which waxed and waned should be considered comment, to the things
he told her about herself and the many ways in which she affected him.
For William Roper the minutes dragged; he was eager to start briskly up
the royal road to Fortune. He was a slow smoker and he smoked a strong,
slow-burning twist; but he had nearly emptied the screw of paper which
held it before they came out of the door of the pavilion.

It was a still evening, but some drift of air had carried the rank sm