able?"

Greatly to my relief Lalage laughed. It was an excited, unnatural laugh;
and it was not very far from crying. Still it was a laugh.

"No," she said. "He made himself particularly agreeable, too agreeable;
at least he tried to."

Then she laughed again and this time the laughing did her good. She
became calmer and sat down on the edge of an iron water tank which stood
in the corner of the greenhouse. I warned her of the danger of falling
in backward. I also offered her one of my cushions to put on the edge
of the tank, which looked to me hard. She laughed in reply. My cigarette
case was, very fortunately, in my pocket. I fished it out and asked her
if she would like to smoke. She took a cigarette and lit it. I could see
that it helped to calm her still further.

"Go on with your story," I said.

"Where was I?"

She spoke quite naturally. The laughter and the cigarette, between them,
had saved her from the attack which for some time was threatening.

"You hadn't actually begun," I said. "You had only mentioned that the
Archdeacon was, or tried to be, unusually, even excessively, agreeable."

"He was writing letters in his study," said Lalage, "when I knocked at
the door and walked in on him. I apologized at once for interrupting
him."

"You were quite right to do that."

"He said he didn't mind a bit; in fact, liked it. Then he looked like a
sheep. You know the sort of way a sheep looks?"

"Woolly?"

"Yes, frightfully, and worse. If I'd had a single grain of sense I
should have bolted at once. Anybody might have known what was coming."

"I shouldn't. In fact, even now that I know something came, I can't
guess what it was."

"Instead of bolting I brought out that text of Selby-Harrison's. He took
it like a lamb."

"Woolly again, only a softer kind of wool."

"No," said Lalage, "just meekly; though of course he went on being
woolly."

"There are several authorized interpretations of that text. My mother
told me so this afternoon. I suppose the Archdeacon trotted them all out
one by one?"

"No. I told you he took it like a lamb. Why won't you try to
understand?"

"Anyhow," I said, "his demeanour was most encouraging to you. I suppose
you suggested Miss Battersby to him at once?"

"No, I didn't. I couldn't."

Lalage hesitated again. She was not speaking with her usual fluency. I
tried to help her out.

"Something in the glare of his eyes stopped you," I said. "I have always
heard that th