ng her mouth for his, and it
was then she pushed him from her, stepped back, and shook herself and
cried, "Oh, oh, you have been drinking!"

As she retreated, he advanced, but she fenced him off with outstretched
hands.

"Go away. You have been drinking."

"I swear I haven't. I had one glass down there. I was thirsty--and no
wonder. I swear I had no more. It's you, you that's sent it to my head."

At that, half was forgiven, but she said, "Anyhow, it's horrid and it
makes me hate you. Go away. Don't touch me. Don't come near." In her
retreat she stumbled against a tree and felt a bitterness of reproach
because he did not ask if she were hurt.

"I'll show you I'm sober," he grumbled. "What do you know about it?
You're a schoolgirl."

"Then if you think that you should be still more ashamed."

"Well, I'm not. You made me mad and--you didn't seem to mind it."

"I didn't, but I do now, and I'm going."

He followed her to the wood's edge and there she turned.

"If your head is so weak you ought never to take spirits."

"My head isn't weak, and I'm not a drunkard. Ask any one. It's you that
are--"

She offered the word--"Intoxicating?" And she let a smile break through
her lips before she ran away.

She felt no mental revulsion against his embrace; the physical one was
only against the smell of spirits which she disliked, and she was the
richer for an experience she did not want to repeat. She saw no reason,
however, why he should not be tempted to offer it. She had tasted of the
fruit, and now she desired no more than the delight of seeing it held
out to her and refusing it.

The moor was friendly to her as she crossed it and if she had suffered
from any sense of guilt, it would have reassured her. Spread under the
pale colour of the declining sun, she thought it was a big eye that
twinkled at her. She looked at the walls of her home and felt unwilling
to be enclosed by them; she looked towards the road, and seeing the
doctor's trap, she decided to stay on the moor until he had been and
gone, and when at last she entered she found the house ominously dark
and quiet. The familiar scent of the hall was a chiding in itself and
she went nervously to the schoolroom, where a line of light marked its
meeting with the floor.

Helen sat by the table, mending linen in the lamplight. She gave one
upward glance and went on working.

"Well?" Miriam said.

"Well?"

"Did he come?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"