ks."

But Val's only reply was to open the door for him and stroll with
him across the lawn. At the wicket gate Hyde turned: "Excuse my
saying so, but I prefer to go alone."

"I'm not coming in at Wanhope. But I've ten words to say to you
before you go there."

"Oh?" said Lawrence. He swung through leaving Val to follow or
not as he liked.

"Stop, Hyde, you must listen. You're going into a house full of
the materials for an explosion. You don't know your own danger."

"I dislike hints. What are you driving at?"

"Laura."

"Mrs. Clowes?"

"Naturally," said Val with a faint smile. "You know as well as I
do how pointless that correction is. You imply by it that as I'm
not her brother I've no right to meddle. But I told you in June
that I should interfere if it became necessary to protect
others."

"And since when, my dear Val, has it become necessary? Last
night?"

"Well, not that only: all Chilmark has been talking for weeks and
weeks."

"Chilmark--"

"Oh," Val interrupted, flinging out his delicate hands, "what's
the good of that? Who would ever suggest that you care what
Chilmark says? But she has to live in it."

The scene had to be faced, and a secret vein of cruelty in
Lawrence was not averse from facing it. This storm had been
brewing all summer.--They were alone, for the beechen way was
used only as a short cut to the vicarage. Above them the garden
wall lifted its feathery fringe of grass into great golden boughs
that drooped over it: all round them the beech forest ran down
into the valley, the eye losing itself among clear glades at the
end of which perhaps a thicket of hollies twinkled darkly or a
marbled gleam of blue shone in from overhead; the steep dark path
was illumined by the golden lamplight of millions on millions of
pointed leaves, hanging motionless in the sunny autumnal morning
air which smelt of dry moss and wood smoke.

"And what's the rumour? That I'm going to prevail or that I've
prevailed already?"

"The worst of it is," Val kept his point and his temper, "that
it's not only Chilmark. One could afford to ignore village
gossip, but this has reached Wharton, my father--Mrs. Clowes
herself. You wouldn't willingly do anything to make her unhappy:
indeed it's because of your consistent and delicate kindness both
to her and to Bernard that I've refrained from giving you a hint
before. You've done Bernard an immense amount of good. But the
good doesn't any l