berleigh woods, which were certainly very
lonely in places, and where, as she said, she had been very much alarmed
by a tramp in the summer.

Mrs. Thursby, like an echo, began from the other end of the table
something vague about girls being allowed to walk alone, her own
daughters, etc., and so the long dinner wore itself out. Dare was the
only one of the little party who had met on the church steps who
succumbed entirely. Mr. Alwynn, who looked at him and Ruth with pathetic
interest from time to time, made laudable efforts, but Dare made none.
He had taken in to dinner the younger Thursby girl, a meek creature,
without form and void, not yet out, but trembling in a high muslin, on
the verge, who kept her large and burning hands clutched together under
the table-cloth, and whose conversation was upon bees. Dare pleaded a
gun headache, and hardly spoke. His eyes constantly wandered to the
other end of the table, where, far away on the opposite side, half
hidden by ferns and flowers, he could catch a glimpse of Ruth. After
dinner he did not come into the drawing-room, but went off to the
smoking-room, where he paced by himself up and down, up and down,
writhing under the torment of a horrible suspense.

Outside the moon shone clear and high, making a long picturesque shadow
of the great prosaic house upon the wide gravel drive. Dare leaned
against the window-sill and looked out. "Would she give him up?" he
asked himself. Would she believe this vile calumny? Would she give him
up? And as he stood the Alwynns' brougham came with two gleaming eyes
along the drive and drew up before the door. He resolved to learn his
fate at once. There had been no possibility of a word with Ruth on the
church steps. Before he had known where he was, he and Charles had been
walking up to the Hall together, Charles discoursing lengthily on the
impropriety of wire fencing in a hunting country. But now he must and
would see her. He rushed down-stairs into the hall, where young Thursby
was wrapping Ruth in her white furs, while Mr. Thursby senior was
encasing Mrs. Alwynn in a species of glorified ulster of red plush which
she had lately acquired. Dare hastily drew Mr. Alwynn aside and spoke a
few words to him. Mr. Alwynn turned to his wife, after one rueful glance
at his thin shoes, and said:

"I will walk up. It is a fine night, and quite dry underfoot."

"And a very pleasant party it has been," said Mrs. Alwynn, as she and
Ruth drove away