endure a good husband with any
resignation, she must have another woman near by with whom she can let
herself go!"

They laughed together, and Cassandra stretched out her hand for the
silks which Dane was smoothing between his palms. Just for a moment the
two hands touched, but after that moment there followed a pause of
mutual self-consciousness. Cassandra bent her head, unwinding and
re-winding her silks with careful deliberation. Dane played with the
tangled ball, longing, yet not daring to ask what shade would be next
required. He looked with distaste upon the two separate threads;
wondering how long they would take to work. When Cassandra spoke again,
she surprised him by a personal question:

"How soon are you to be married, Captain Peignton?"

For a moment he stared in surprise. Then he laughed.

"Apropos of good husbands?"

"I was not thinking of the connection, but let us hope it _is_ apropos.
Soon, I suppose? Men are generally impatient."

"Are they?" He knit his brows, and appeared to consider the subject.
"I don't know that I am impatient. Being engaged is quite a pleasant
condition. It's an opportunity of getting thoroughly acquainted. It
doesn't seem fair on the girl to rush her into a hasty marriage. And in
the meantime I have no settled home. I could leave the Moat at any
time, if there were a sufficient reason, but Paley will be home in
autumn. I should like to stay on until his return. It has fitted in
very well for me having the run of the place while he is away, and I
don't want to make a convenience of him. He wants me to put up at the
Moat over Christmas, and have some hunting, and then, if I can find it,
I'd like a small agency just to add the jam to my own bread. Perhaps
next spring..."

A year from now! Cassandra was conscious of mingled dismay and relief.
A year more of friendship and understanding; a year more of unrest. For
her own sake she could not decide whether she were glad or regretful,
but she thought of Mrs Mallison and the pile of catalogues on a table
when she had paid her visit of congratulation, and from her heart she
was sorry for Teresa.

"I was engaged for six weeks," she said, shrugging, and Dane opened his
lips eagerly, choked back the coming words, and mumbled a conventional
astonishment. She longed to know what he had been about to say!

For the next half-hour Cassandra stitched steadily at the under-robe of
the pictured dame, but Peignton had