gh
to relieve the awkwardness.

"Not as much as I could have imagined," he answered, through what seemed
a fit of preoccupation.

"Mr. Gifford has not had much opportunity yet of seeing how far it has
altered, with this tragic affair to upset everything," Morriston put in.

"No, it has been a most unlucky time for him to revisit Wynford," Miss
Morriston added in her cold tone. "I hope Mr. Gifford is not going to
hurry away from the neighbourhood in consequence."

"Not if I can prevent it," Kelson replied, with a laugh.

"I hope," Morriston said hospitably, "that whether his stay be short or
long Mr. Gifford will consider himself quite at home here. And I need not
say, my dear Kelson, that invitation includes you."

Both men thanked him. "We have already done a little trespassing in your
park," Kelson observed with a laugh.

"Please don't call it trespassing again," Miss Morriston commanded. "Let
me give you another cup of tea, Muriel."

"The old house looks most picturesque by moon-light," observed Lord
Painswick. "I was quite fascinated by it the other night."

"There is a full moon now," Gifford said. "We will stroll round and
admire when we leave."

"Don't stroll over the edge of the haha as I very nearly did one night,"
Morriston said laughingly. "When it lies in the shadow of the house it is
a regular trap."

"Moonlight has its dangers as well as its beauties," Painswick murmured
sententiously.

"The friendly cloak of night is apt to trip one up," Gifford added.

As he spoke the words there came a startling little cry from Miss
Tredworth accompanied by the crash and clatter of falling crockery.
Gifford's remark had been made with his eyes fixed on his friend's
_fiancee_, to whom at that moment Miss Morriston was handing the refilled
cup of tea. A hand of each girl was upon the saucer as the words were
uttered; by whose fault it was let fall it was impossible to say. But the
slight cry of dismay had come from Miss Tredworth.

"Oh, I am so sorry," she exclaimed, colouring with vexation. "How stupid
and clumsy of me. Your lovely china."

"It was my fault," Edith Morriston protested, her clear-cut face showing
no trace of annoyance. "I thought you had hold of the cup, and I let it
go too soon. Ring the bell, will you, Dick."

"Please don't distress yourself, Miss Tredworth," Mr. Morriston entreated
her as he crossed to the bell. "I'm sure it was not your fault."

"Was that a quotation, Mr. Gifford?