d breathed with relief in the never-broken
shadow of tangled foliage. Whilst pushing a bramble aside, Tarrant let
his free arm fall lightly on Nancy's waist. At once she sprang forward,
but without appearing to notice what had happened.

'Stay--did you ever see such ivy as this?'

It was a mass of large, lustrous leaves, concealing a rotten trunk.
Whilst Nancy looked on, Tarrant pulled at a long stem, and tried to
break it away.

'I must cut it.'

'Why?'

'You shall see.'

He wove three stems into a wreath.

'There now, take off your hat, and let me crown you. Have I made it too
large for the little head?'

Nancy, after a moment's reluctance, unfastened her hat, and stood
bareheaded, blushing and laughing.

'You do your hair in the right way--the Greek way. A diadem on the
top--the only way when the hair and the head are beautiful. It leaves
the outline free--the exquisite curve that unites neck and head. Now the
ivy wreath; and how will you look?'

She wore a dress of thin, creamy material, which, whilst seeming to
cumber her as little as garments could, yet fitted closely enough to
declare the healthy beauty of her form. The dark green garland, for
which she bent a little, became her admirably.

'I pictured it in my letter,' said Tarrant, 'the letter you never got.'

'Where is it?'

'Oh, I burnt it.'

'Tell me what was in it.'

'All sorts of things--a long letter.'

'I think that's all nonsense about forgetting my address.'

'Mere truth. In fact, I never knew it.'

'Be so good as to tell me,' she spoke as she walked on before him, 'what
you meant by your behaviour that morning before you went to London.'

'But how did I behave?'

'Very strangely.'

Tarrant affected not to understand; but, when she again turned, Nancy
saw a mischievous smile on his face.

'A bit of nonsense.--Shall I tell you?' He stepped near, and suddenly
caught both her hands,--one of them was trailing her sunshade. 'Forgive
me in advance--will you?'

'I don't know about that.' And she tried, though faintly, to get free.

'But I will make you--now, refuse!'

His lips had just touched hers, just touched and no more. Rosy red, she
trembled before him with drooping eyelids.

'It meant nothing at all, really,' he pursued, his voice at its softest.
'A sham trial--to see whether I was hopelessly conquered or not. Of
course I was.'

Nancy shook her head.

'You dare to doubt it?--I understand now what the old poet mean