, that gentle voice, were there
to offer him. Once before he had tried, and failed signally. It was
plain that his only chance of safety lay in attack. He must press her
tirelessly. The great thing was to keep talking....

Thank God, there was a subject to hand. Gramarye made a wonderful
topic, inviting, inexhaustible. Her blessed woods and streams, her
poor blurred avenues, her crumbling roads, the piteous havoc of the
proud estate stood him in splendid stead. Anthony found himself not
only talking, but waxing enthusiastic. The queer conceit that Gramarye
had responded to his cry for help filled him with exultation. Out of
his grateful mouth her praise came bubbling....

Settling himself in his saddle with a slow smile, the Knight of the
Broken Bough laid on more lustily than before.

It was Patch who unwittingly put a spoke in the latter's wheel.

Miss French's reappearance had affected the dog powerfully. One
October day he had known her for Anthony's darling, and as such had
become her vassal. He had since seen no reason to withdraw his fealty.
As we have seen, at her coming he had leaped for joy. Occasion and
personage, however, deserved more honour than that. Ever since the
three had begun their ramble, he had been scouring the undergrowth for
an offering meet to be laid at the lady's shining feet. It was the way
of his heart.

Not until Miss French and Lyveden were standing beside a tottering
bridge, and the latter was pointing the traces of a vista which once
had gladdened all eyes with its sweetness, but was now itself blind,
did the little squire happen upon a treasure worthy in his sight to be
bestowed. At this juncture, however, a particularly unsavoury smell
attracted his straining nostrils.... A moment later what was, despite
the ravages of decomposition, still recognizable as the corpse of a
large black bird was deposited with every circumstance of cheerful
devotion immediately at Valerie's feet.

To ignore such a gift was impossible. Its nature and condition saw to
that. To accept it was equally out of the question. But tacitly to
reject such a love-token needed a harder heart than Valerie's or, for
the matter of that, than Anthony's, either.

Miss French gave a queer little cry of mingled distaste and
appreciation, and Anthony hesitated, lost the thread of his discourse,
and stopped.

"How very sweet of you, Patch! No, I mustn't touch it because I'm not
allowed dead birds.