it and made it up rather nicely."

The doctor nodded. "So they ought to. It's good stuff, but you would
never have written it at all if it hadn't been for me." The thought
seemed to bring back his grievances, for he went on querulously, "Why do
you always go to Paris or Brussels or some place like that? Can't you
find enough bad liquor and bad company in London, at far less cost?"

Jimmy flushed. "Look here, Gregg," he began angrily, then broke off with
a bitter laugh. "I suppose I've no right to take offence at you, after
all. I never go to London, haven't been there for a year, I loathe the
place."

"Bad memories, eh?" The doctor jerked the words out as he guided his
horse past a big dray.

"Bad memories," Jimmy assented wearily. "The worst of bad memories."

"That's the advantage of being a medical man." They had just passed the
dray and were coming to the outskirts of the little country town. "We
understand what it means, you see, and when a woman lets us down, we
don't make it worse, as you are doing. Oh, I know you didn't say
anything about a woman, but I know, too, that you meant one. It's a poor
compliment to her if she's any good, and if she isn't, why worry?"

Jimmy did not answer, and the doctor changed the subject abruptly, as
was his way. "Did they tell you that Drylands, the big house close to
your cottage, was let at last? You'll have some society now. I hear
they're people who entertain a lot."

"What is their name?" Jimmy demanded.

"Something not unlike your own--Grimston, I think."

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. "Never heard of them, and, anyway, it
probably wouldn't affect me. The neighbourhood as a whole hasn't exactly
tumbled over itself in its anxiety to make my acquaintance."

"That's your own fault," the doctor retorted. "You haven't given the
neighbourhood much encouragement to know you, although you would be
welcome enough. You're a surly brute in many ways, Grierson."

"Thanks," Jimmy answered with a hard laugh. "At least you're outspoken.
And now this is my destination, the news agent's shop. I'll try to
follow your professional advice--for as long as I can."

The doctor grunted something unintelligible and drove on. It was market
day, and there were several farmers he wanted to interview before the
excitement, or the local ale, or a combination of both, rendered their
ideas a little more vague than at ordinary times.

* * * * *

It was a year