"I mean," Haddington went on, "there is a point at which you must face
realities. Kate, do you love me?"

Ayre leant forward and peered through the bushes.

"I will not break my engagement."

"That is no answer."

"I can't help it. I have been taught--"

"Oh, taught! Kate, you know Lane; you know what he is. You saw him with
Lady--"

"You're very unkind."

"And for his sake you throw away what I offer?"

"Won't you be patient?"

"Ah, you admit--"

"No, I don't!"

"But you can't deny it. Now you make me happy."

The conversation here became so low in tone that Ayre, to his vast
disgust, was unable to overhear it. The next words that reached his ear
came again from Haddington.

"Well, I will wait--I will wait three months. If nothing happens then,
you will break it off?"

A gentle "Yes" floated up to the eavesdropper.

"Though why you want him to break it off rather than yourself, I don't
know."

"He doesn't appreciate her morality," reflected Ayre, with a chuckle.

"Kate, we are promised to one another? secretly, if you like, but
promised?"

"I'm afraid it's very wrong."

"Why, he deliberately insulted you!"

The tones again became inaudible; but after a pause there came a sound
that made Ayre almost jump.

"By Jove!" he whispered in his excitement. "Confound these trees! Was it
only her hand, or--"

"Then I have your promise, dear?"

"Yes; in three months. But I must go in. Aunt will be angry."

"You won't let him win you over?"

"He has treated me badly; but I don't want it said I jilted him."

They had risen by now.

"You ask such a lot of me," said Haddington.

"Ah! I thought you said you loved me. Can't you wait three months?"

"I suppose I must. But, Kate, you are sincere with me? Tell me you love
me."

Again Ayre leant forward. They had began to walk away, but now
Haddington stopped, and laying his hand on Kate's arm, detained her.
"Say you love me," he said again.

"Yes, I love you!" said Kate, with commendable confusion, and they
resumed their walk.

"What is her game?" Ayre asked himself. "If she means to throw Eugene
over, why doesn't she do it right out? I don't believe she does. She's
afraid he'll throw her over. And, by Jove! she fobbed that fool off
again! We're no further forward than we were. If he makes trouble about
this she'll deny the whole thing. Miss Bernard is a lady of talent.
But--no, can I? Yes, I will. Rather than let her win, I'll step in. I'll
g