ish to offer
you." She had known that this was coming, but, none the less, felt a
little shock, half of pleasure, half of reluctance, when she heard the
formal statement.

"I should like it," she began, "but--"

"Would Rodney mind?"

"Oh no," she replied quickly.

"No, no, it isn't that," she went on, and again came to an end. She had
been touched by the unreserved and yet ceremonious way in which he had
made what he called his offer of terms, but if he was generous it was
the more necessary for her to be cautious. They would find themselves
in difficulties, she speculated; but, at this point, which was not very
far, after all, upon the road of caution, her foresight deserted her.
She sought for some definite catastrophe into which they must inevitably
plunge. But she could think of none. It seemed to her that these
catastrophes were fictitious; life went on and on--life was different
altogether from what people said. And not only was she at an end of her
stock of caution, but it seemed suddenly altogether superfluous. Surely
if any one could take care of himself, Ralph Denham could; he had told
her that he did not love her. And, further, she meditated, walking on
beneath the beech-trees and swinging her umbrella, as in her thought she
was accustomed to complete freedom, why should she perpetually apply so
different a standard to her behavior in practice? Why, she reflected,
should there be this perpetual disparity between the thought and the
action, between the life of solitude and the life of society, this
astonishing precipice on one side of which the soul was active and in
broad daylight, on the other side of which it was contemplative and dark
as night? Was it not possible to step from one to the other, erect, and
without essential change? Was this not the chance he offered her--the
rare and wonderful chance of friendship? At any rate, she told Denham,
with a sigh in which he heard both impatience and relief, that she
agreed; she thought him right; she would accept his terms of friendship.

"Now," she said, "let's go and have tea."

In fact, these principles having been laid down, a great lightness of
spirit showed itself in both of them. They were both convinced that
something of profound importance had been settled, and could now give
their attention to their tea and the Gardens. They wandered in and out
of glass-houses, saw lilies swimming in tanks, breathed in the scent
of thousands of carnations, and co