rom without.

"Quick!" sounded Lashmar's voice. "I hear wheels on the road.--Ha! Just
in time! It might be someone who would recognise me."

He had grasped May's hand. He was gazing eagerly, amorously into her
face. His emotions had matured since the meeting two days ago.

"Tell me all the news," he went on. "Is Dymchurch here?"

"Yes. And the others. You come to lunch to-day, of course? You will see
them."

She recovered her hand, though not without a little struggle, which
pleased her. For all her academic modernism, May belonged to the class
which has primitive traditions, unsophisticated instincts.

"And what has happened?" asked Dyce, advancing as she stepped back. He
spoke like one who has a right to the fullest information.

"Happened? Nothing particular. What could have happened?"

"I have been tormenting myself. Of course I know why Dymchurch has
come, and so do you. I can't go away in a horrible uncertainty. If I
do, I shall betray myself when I come to luncheon, so I give you
warning."

"What do you mean!" exclaimed the girl, with an air of dignity
surprised.

"Tell me the truth. Has Dymchurch spoken?"

"Many times," answered May; smiling with excessive ingenuousness. "He
is not very talkative, but he doesn't keep absolute silence--I hear
that you have been to see Mrs. Gallantry."

"What do I care about Mrs. Gallantry! I've seen no end of people, but
all the time I was thinking of you. Yesterday morning, I all but wrote
to you."

"What about?"

"All sorts of things. Of course I should have disguised my handwriting
in the address."

May avoided his look, and shaped her lips to severity. "If you had done
such a thing--I should have been greatly displeased. I'm very glad you
didn't so far forget yourself."

"So am I, now. Won't you tell me if anything has happened. Won't you
put my mind at ease?"

"I can stay only for a few minutes. There's really nothing to
tell--nothing. But _you_ must have plenty of news. How are things going
on?"

Lashmar hurriedly told of two or three circumstances which seemed to
favour him in the opening campaign. There was now no doubt that
Butterworth would be the Conservative candidate, and, on the whole, his
name appeared to excite but moderate enthusiasm. He broke off with an
impatient gesture.

"I can't talk about that stuff! It's waste of time, whilst I am with
you."

"But it interests me very much," said May, who seemed to grow calmer as
Dyce yielded t