ee? The one that's
looking our way."

With an air of unutterable contempt, Betty lighted a cigarette and then
hurled the matchbox at her unsuspecting spouse. The missile ricocheted
off his chin and fell noisily into the cup of tea which was halfway to
his lips....

When order had been restored--

"He must see it at once," said Betty. "Before the leaves fall."

"The view, or the ballet?" said George.

"Idiot!" She turned to Anne. "Why don't you take him this afternoon?
It's his day out, and you know you can always go."

"Yes, please do," said Anthony.

He could not very well have said anything else. Besides, Anne was all
right. He liked her. There was, of course, but one woman in the
world. Still Anne was a good sort, and he would not have hurt her
feelings for anything.

The matter was arranged then and there.

Seven hours later the two, with Patch, were tramping over a rising moor
towards a dense promise of woodland which rose in a steep slope, jagged
and tossing. This day the ragamuffin winds were out--a plaguy,
blustering crew, driving hither and thither in a frolic that knew no
law, buffeting either cheek, hustling bewildered vanes, cuffing the
patient trees into a dull roar of protest that rose and fell, a sullen
harmony, joyless and menacing. The skies were comfortless, and there
was a sinister look about the cold grey pall that spoke of winter and
the pitiless rain and the scream of the wind in tree-tops, and even
remembered the existence of snow.

"I wish it was a better day," said Anne. "It's always worth seeing;
but you won't see so far to-day, and there's no sun."

Anthony glanced at the sky.

"Unless," he said, "it's worth seeing when the trees are bare, it's
just as well we're going there to-day. That sky means mischief. Are
you sure you're warm enough?"

Anne laughed.

"Supposing I said I wasn't," she said, "what would you do about it?
Give me your coat?"

Anthony stood still.

"I should take you home--quick," he said gravely.

Honestly he hoped that she would waver. He had never wanted to come.
Left to himself, he and Patch would have walked--elsewhither. Had he
not known that Valerie was away, he would have excused himself at
breakfast. Not for anything in the world would he have forfeited a
chance of meeting her. Poor Anne's feelings would have had to rough it.

"I'm as warm as toast," said Miss Alison cheerfully. "And I know you
don't want to come," she added,