e in the Rectory."

"I'll ask Mother," said Pauline.

"You want to come?"

"Of course. Of course."

"You see," said Guy, "it's one of the places where I nearly told you I
loved you. And it wouldn't be fair not to tell you there, as soon as I
can."

In the Rectory everybody was anxious to know how Guy liked Pauline's
Miss Verney.

"Margaret, you are really unkind to laugh at her," protested Pauline.
"Guy understands, if you don't, how frightfully sympathetic she is. She
is one of the people who really understands about being in love."

Margaret laughed.

"Don't I?" she said.

"No, indeed, Margaret, sometimes I don't think you do," said Pauline.

"Nor I?" asked Monica.

"You don't at all!" Pauline protested.

"Well, if it means being like Miss Verney, I hope I never shall," said
Monica.

"Now, children, children," interrupted Mrs. Grey. "You must not be cross
with one another."

"Well, Mother, Margaret and Monica are not to laugh at Miss Verney,"
Pauline insisted. "And to-morrow Guy and I want as a great exception to
go for a walk to Wychford down. May we?"

"Well, as a great exception, yes," said Mrs. Grey; and Guy, with
apparently an access of grateful industry, said he must go home and
work.

Pauline wondered what Guy would have to tell her to-morrow, and she fell
asleep that night hoping she would not be shy to-morrow; for, since Guy
was still no more to Pauline than the personification of a vague and
happy love just as Miss Verney's miniature was the personification of
one that was not happy, she always was a little alarmed when the
personification became real.

Wychford down seemed to rest on billowy clouds next morning, so light
was Pauline's heart, so light was the earth on which she walked; and
when Guy kissed her the larks in their blue world were not far away, so
near did she soar upon his kiss to the rays of their glittering plumes.

"Every time I see you," said Guy, "the world seems to offer itself to
us more completely. I never kissed you before under the sky like this."

She wished he would not say the actual word, for it made her realize
herself in his arms and brought back in a flood all her shyness.

"I think it's dry enough to sit on this stone," said Guy.

So they sat on one of the outcrops of Wychford freestone that all around
were thrusting themselves up from the grass like old gray animals.

"Now tell me more about Miss Verney," he went on. "Why was her
love-affair unha