."

He continued to be serious. "Well, you're not ignorant. Rupert and I
made up our minds to that as soon as we knew anything ourselves; but
women are such fools, such fools! Tender-hearted idiots!"

"Is that why you're afraid to go to Lily Brent?" she asked.

"Ah, that's different," he mumbled. "She's more like a man."

Helen was smiling as they walked on. "If you could have Lily Brent and
give up your garden, or keep your garden and lose her--"

"I'm not going to talk about it," he said.

"I wanted to know how much love really matters. That horse is much
nearer now. We'll see the lights soon. And there's some one by the
roadside, smoking. It's George. Good-evening, George."

His deep voice rumbled through the darkness, exchanging salutations.
"I'm waiting for the doctor."

"Some one's coming now."

"Yes, it's his old nag. That horse makes you believe in eternity,
anyhow."

She felt a sudden, painful anger. "He's a friend of mine--the horse,"
and quietly, she repeated to herself, "The horse," because he had no
name by which she could endear him.

"Is Mr. Halkett worse?" John asked, from the edge of the road.

The red end of Halkett's cigar glowed and faded. "I'm anxious about
him."

The yellow lights of the approaching dog-cart swept the borders of the
moor and Helen felt herself caught in the illumination. The horse
stopped and she heard the doctor's clear-cut voice.

"Is that you, Helen?"

"Yes."

"Anything wrong?"

"No, I'm just here with John," she said and went close to the cart. "And
George is waiting for you."

"He'd better hop up, then." He bent towards her. "Did you find the
fires?"

She nodded with the vehemence of her gladness that he should remember.
"And," she whispered hurriedly, "you were quite right about the doors.
Uncle Alfred's going to be a friend."

"That's good. Hullo, Halkett. Get up, will you, and we'll go on. Where's
John?"

"Sitting on the bank."

The cart shook under Halkett's added weight, and as he took his seat he
bulked enormous in the darkness. Dwarfed by that nearness, the doctor
sat with his hat in one hand and gathered the reins up with the other.

"No, just a minute!" Helen cried. "I want to stroke the horse." Her
voice had laughter in it.

"There's a patient waiting for me, you know."

"Yes. There! It's done. Go on. Good-night."

The cart took the corner in a blur of lamplight and shadow, tipped over
a large stone and disappeared down the high-ba