salutation.

Gladys stepped composedly into the phaeton, and, sitting up in rather a
dignified way, accorded him a very calm, cool greeting. His demeanour
was significant of a slight nervousness as he approached the carriage,
not at all sure of his ground.

'I am in luck, Gladys,' he said, trying to speak with a natural gaiety.
'Have I your permission to take a seat beside you?'

'If you are going to Bourhill, of course you may,' she replied quite
calmly; then, turning to the groom, she said, without any hesitation,
'You can walk home, William. Put my letters in at the post as you pass,
and bring me five shillings' worth of stamps.'

The groom touched his hat, took the money and the letters, and walked
off, indulging in a grin when his face was turned away from the
occupants of the carriage.

'Shall I take the reins, Gladys?' inquired George, with a very bright
look on his face. He perceived that, though there might be 'rows,' as he
mentally expressed it, they would be of a mild nature, easily explained;
the bolt had _not_ fallen, if anything was to be gathered from her
demeanour.

'No, thank you. I dislike sitting idle in a carriage. I always drive
myself,' she said calmly, and, with a rather tighter hand than usual on
the reins, she turned the ponies' heads, and even gave each a sharp
flick with the whip, which sent them up the leafy road at a very smart
pace.

'I have come to make my peace, Gladys, and it's awfully good of you to
send the fellow away,' George began impressively. 'I'm in luck, I tell
you. I pictured to myself a long dusty walk through the sunshine.'

'I sent him away because we had a long drive this morning, and I wanted
Castor and Pollux to have an easier load to pull up the hill,' she
replied. 'I suppose if I had allowed you to walk instead of William, it
would have been rather rude.'

Her manner, though very calm and unruffled, was rather unpromising.
George looked at her a trifle anxiously, as if hardly sure how to
proceed.

'Are you awfully angry with me, Gladys? I always expected a letter from
you. I thought you were so angry with me that I was afraid to write.'

'You were quite wrong, then. I was not angry at all. But why should I
have written when you did not?'

This was rather unanswerable, and he hesitated a moment over his next
words. He had to weigh them rather carefully for the ears of this
singularly placid and self-possessed young lady, whose demeanour was so
little ind