young folks are
very--as the phrase goes--spooney, they won't admit that peculiar
conditions have anything to do with it. They have always been destined
for one another by Fate."

"How does that apply to Gwen and Torrens?"

"Merely that when Mr. Torrens's sight comes back.... What?"

"Nothing. I only said I was glad to hear you say _when_, not _if_. Go
on."

"When his sight comes back--unless it comes back very quickly--they will
be so convinced they were intended for one another from the beginning of
Time, that they won't credit the accident with any share in the
business."

"Except as an Agent of Destiny. I think that quite likely. It supplies a
reason, though, for not getting his sight back in too great a hurry. How
long should you say would be safe?"

"I should imagine that in six months, if it is not broken off, it will
have become chronic. At present they are rather ... rather ..."

"Rather underdone. I see. Well--I don't understand that anyone wants to
take them off the hob...."

"I think her mother does."

"Not exactly. She only wishes them to stand on separate hobs for three
months. They will hear each other simmer. My own belief is that they
will be worked up to a sort of frenzy, compared to which those two
parties in Dante ... you know which I mean?..."

"Paolo and Francesca?"

Mr. Pellew thought to himself how well enformed Miss Dickenson was. He
said aloud:--"Yes, them. Paolo and Francesca would be quite
lukewarm--sort of negus!--compared to our young friends. Correspondence
is the doose. Not so bad in this case, p'r'aps, because he can't read
her letters himself.... I don't know, though--that might make it
worse.... Couldn't say!" And he seemed to find that cigar very good,
and, indeed, to be enjoying himself thoroughly.

Had Aunt Constance any sub-intent in her next remark? Had it any
hinterland of discussion of the ethics of Love, provocative of practical
application to the lives of old maids and old bachelors--if the one,
then the other, in this case--strolling in a leisurely way through
bracken and beechmast, fancy-free, no doubt? If she had, and her
companion suspected it, he was not seriously alarmed, this time. But
then he was off to London in a couple of hours.

Her remark was:--"You seem to be quite an authority on the subject, Mr.
Pellew."

"No--you don't mean that? Does me a lot of credit, though! Guessin', I
am, all through. No experience--honour bright!"

"You don't expect