thought she should like him, though his scornful manner in speaking of
the squire had annoyed her. The interest she could feel in him, if she
felt any at all, would be akin to that of the vicar in the boy. He was
only a boy; brilliantly talented, they said, but still a mere boy. She
was fully ten years older than he--she might almost be his mother--well,
not quite that, but very nearly. It was amusing to think of his writing
odes to her. She wished she could see translations of them, and she
almost made up her mind to ask him to show them to her.

John on the other hand experienced a curious sensation. He had never
before been in the society of so charming a woman. He looked at her and
looked again, and came to the conclusion that she was not only charming
but beautiful. He had not the least idea of her age; it is not the manner
of his kind to think much about the age of a woman, provided she is not
too young. The girl might be ten. Mrs. Goddard might have married at
sixteen--twenty-six, twenty-seven--what was that? John called himself
twenty-two. Five years was simply no difference at all! Besides, who
cared for age?

He had suddenly found himself almost on a footing of intimacy with this
lovely creature. His odes had served him well; it had pleased her to hear
the story. She had laughed a little, of course; but women, as John knew,
always laugh when they are pleased. He would like to show her his odes.
As he walked through the park by her side he felt a curious sense of
possession in her which gave him a thrill of exquisite delight; and when
they entered the Hall he felt as though he were resigning her to the
squire, which gave him a corresponding sense of annoyance. When an
Englishman experiences these sensations, he is in love. John resolved
that whatever happened he would walk back with Mrs. Goddard.

"Come in," said the squire cheerily. "We are not so cold as we used to be
up here."

A great fire of logs was burning upon the hearth in the Hall. Stamboul
stalked up to the open chimney, scratched the tiger's skin which served
for a rug, and threw himself down as though his day's work were done.
Mr. Juxon went up to Mrs. Goddard.

"I think you had better take off your coat," he said. "The house is very
warm."

Mrs. Goddard allowed the squire to help her in removing the heavy black
jacket lined and trimmed with fur, which she wore. John eyed the
proceeding uneasily and kept on his greatcoat.

"Thank you--I don