ynors eclipsed
by a tinge of jealousy aroused by the girl's words. She seemed to
understand a good deal of the behaviour of a man in love! How did she
come by her knowledge? He had thought the coast clear, but was it
possible that one of those local fellows--? Man-like, his interest was
quickened by the suspicion, and Teresa gained in value at the thought of
another man's admiration. There was unmistakable inflection in the tone
of his next words:

"When _I_ am married, I shall hope to remain in love with my wife!"

Teresa straightened herself, and forced a cough. She was in terror lest
the shabby groom might overhear the words, and repeat them for the
benefit of the maids in the kitchen.

"Oh, yes, of course!" she said lightly. "That is so nice... Then you
_will_ come, and help with the decorations? One needs a man to reach
the high places. The Vicar won't allow a single nail."

"Yes, I'll come. I'd like to!" Peignton said. He smiled to himself in
the dusk at the thought of standing before the altar in the old church,
side by side with Teresa Mallison, her hands heaped with white flowers.
He wondered if to her, as to him, would come the thought that there
might come another occasion when they would stand there for another
purpose. As the horse trotted up to the door of Major Mallison's house,
he was mentally seeing a picture of Teresa in her wedding robes, a gauzy
veil covering her head.

A moment later as they bade each other goodnight, the light through the
opened door fell full upon the face of the real Teresa in her Burberry
and knitted cap, and looking at her, Peignton felt a sudden stab of
disappointment. The familiar features seemed in mysterious fashion
other than those he had expected. Faults of which he had been happily
unconscious, obtruded themselves upon his notice. It was almost as if
he looked upon the face of a stranger. He walked down the deserted
street pondering the mystery, and like other unimaginative men, failed
to find an explanation.

How could it have been possible that he had dreamed of another face?

CHAPTER THREE.

HOUSEHOLD WORDS.

Marten Beverley and his wife Grizel confronted each other across the
breakfast table. Only the night before they had returned from a
protracted, wedding tour, to take possession of their new home. Each
was superbly, gloriously happy, but there was a difference in their
happiness. Martin was not tired of play, but the zest for w