riday, since you prefer it."

Anthony seated himself on the arm of a leather chair, and, with
calculated deliberation, produced his cigarette-case, selected a
cigarette, returned his cigarette-case to his pocket, took out his
matchbox, struck a match, and got his cigarette alight.

"No, dear Nimbletongue," he said at last, through a screen of smoke,
"not Friday, either." He smiled, shaking his head.

Disquiet began to paint itself in Adrian's mien.

"Name your own day." He waited, anxious, in suspense.

Anthony chuckled.

"My own day is no day. I have n't the faintest desire to make the good
woman's acquaintance, and I shall not call on her at all."

Adrian stretched out appealing hands.

"But Anthony--" he adjured him.

"No," said Anthony, with determination. "I 'm not a calling man. And
I 've come down here for rest and recreation. I 'll pay no calls. Let
that be understood. Calls, quotha! And in the country, at that. Oh,
don't I know them? Oh, consecrated British dulness! The smug faces,
the vacuous grins; the lifeless, limping attempts at conversation; the
stares of suspicious incomprehension if you chance to say a thing that
has a point; and then, the thick, sensible, slightly muddy boots. I
'll pay no calls. And as for making acquaintances--save me from those
I 've made already. In broad England I can recall but three
acquaintances who are n't of a killing sameness;--and one of those," he
concluded sadly, with a bow to his companion, "one of those is fat, and
grows old."

"Poor lad," Adrian commiserated him. "You are tired and overwrought.
Go to your room, and have a bath and a brush up. That will refresh
you. Then, at half-past four, you can renew the advantages of my
society at tea in the garden. Oh, you 'll find your room quite ready.
I 've felt a pricking in my thumbs any time these three months. Shall
I send Wick?"

"Yes, if you will be so good," said Anthony. He rose, and moved
towards the staircase.

Adrian waited till he had reached the top.

Then, "You 'll meet her whether you like or not on Sunday. Where on
earth do you suppose she hears her Mass?" he called after him.

"Oh, hang," Anthony called back.

For, sure enough, unless she drove seven miles to Wetherleigh, where
could she hear her Mass, but as his guest, in the chapel of his house?

III

Susanna was seated on the moss, at the roots of a wide-spreading oak.
She was leaning back, so that she could