ed neighboring flocks; several dark clouds
had risen simultaneously, but in a few moments they settled again.

"You had better use both guns," whispered Isabel, "and I will do the
reloading. We can't do much with these old-fashioned things at best."

Gwynne accepted this act of sacrifice with a matter-of-fact nod, and it
was but a moment later that they came upon another flock. He fired with
an accuracy of aim that won him an admiring mutter, although to miss
would have been almost as noteworthy. But after repeating this
experience several times, he shrugged his shoulders and announced
himself blase.

"I'd like something a little more difficult," he said. "Ten minutes of
this and we can glut the market."

"All men are children," said Isabel, indulgently. "Tie up the boat and
we'll go after widgeon."

They landed and stole softly over the larger reach of marsh-land, Isabel
in the lead as she knew every hole. It was ten minutes before she raised
her hand and pointed to a wilted but still effective screen. Under cover
of this they crawled towards a large pond on which ducks were resting
but by no means asleep. Before the guns were shouldered they had taken
flight; so few were brought down on the wing that Gwynne's interest
revived, and he followed Isabel eagerly towards another pond with a
better blind. Here they were more wary and more fortunate, and Isabel
took a curious pleasure in watching the manifest bliss of her companion.
She had never seen him look really happy before. Upon his return to
Capheaton from his triumphant battle on the hustings he had been as
impassive as his traditions demanded. On the morning of his engagement
he had looked rather silly to her detached eye; and immediately after,
tragedy and trouble and infinite vexation had claimed him. But this
evening, with his cap pushed back, his nostrils distended, his eyes
sparkling, he looked like any other young fellow to whom the present was
all. Isabel reflected somewhat cynically that it was the opportunity to
kill something that had effected this momentary reconciliation with
life. But she was too good a sportswoman not to understand his mood, and
when he had waded into the lake and returned flushed and triumphant with
his bag, she complimented him so warmly that he laughed aloud in sheer
delight.

"We have enough for once," she began, but he would not hear of returning
to the boat even for the refreshment of tea, and they went on and on
until the