'm all right.'

The landau rolled away. Wilfrid still loitered in the hall, a singular
look of doubt on his face. In a room above one of the twins was having a
music lesson; a certain finger-exercise was being drummed with
persistent endeavour at accuracy.

'How can she bear that morning after morning?' the young man murmured to
himself.

He took his straw hat and went round to the stables. Oberon was being
groomed. Wilfrid patted the horse's sleek neck, and talked a little with
the man. At length he made up his mind to go and prepare for riding;
Oberon would be ready for him in a few minutes.

In the porch Patty ran to meet him.

'Truant!' Wilfrid exclaimed. 'Have I caught you in the act of escape?'

'I was going to look for you,' said the child, putting her arm through
his and swinging upon him. 'We want to know if you'll be back for
lunch.'

'Who wants to know?'

'I and Minnie and Miss Hood.'

'Oh, you are Patty, then, are you?'

This was an old form of joke. The child shook her dark curls with a
half-annoyed gesture, but still swung on her cousin as he moved into the
house. Wilfrid passed his arm about her playfully.

'Can't you make up your mind, Wilf?' she asked.

'Oh yes, my mind is quite made up,' he replied, with a laugh.

'And won't you tell me?'

'Tell you? Ah, about lunch. No, I shall not be back.'

'You won't? Oh, I am sorry.'

'Why are you sorry, indistinguishable little maiden?' he asked, drawing
out one of her curls between his fingers, and letting it spring back
again into its circling beauty.

'We thought it would be so nice, we four at lunch.'

'I am warned to avoid you. The tone of conversation would try my weak
head; I am not capable yet of intellectual effort.'

The little girl looked at him with puzzled eyes.

'Well, it can't be helped,' she said. 'I must go back to my lessons.'

She ran off, and Wilfrid went up to his dressing-room. When he came
down, Oberon was pawing the gravel before the door. He mounted and rode
away.

His spirits, which at first seemed to suffer some depression, took
vigour once more from the air of the downs. He put Oberon at a leap or
two, then let the breeze sing in his ears as he was borne at a gallop
over the summer land, golden with sunlight. In spite of his still worn
look, health was manifest in the upright vigour of his form, and in his
eyes gleamed the untroubled joy of existence. Hope just now was strong
within him, a hope defined and