Joan.
"It might make you less forgetful next time."

Mr. Vyner became thoughtful, not to say grave. "I don't know so much
about running," he said, slowly. "I've had an idea for some time past
that my heart is a little bit affected."

Joan turned to him swiftly. "I'm so sorry," she faltered. "I had no
idea; and the other night you were rolling the grass. Why didn't you
speak of it before?"

Her anxiety was so genuine that Mr. Vyner had the grace to feel a little
bit ashamed of himself.

"When I say that my heart is affected, I don't mean in the way of--of
disease," he murmured.

"Is it weak?" inquired the girl.

Mr. Vyner shook his head.

"Well, what is the matter with it?"

Mr. Vyner sighed. "I don't know," he said, slowly. "It is not of long
standing; I only noticed it a little while ago. The first time I had an
attack I was sitting in my office--working. Let me see. I think it was
the day you came in there to see your father. Yes, I am sure it was."

Miss Hartley walked on, looking straight before her.

"Since then," pursued Mr. Vyner, in the mournful tones suited to the
subject, "it has got gradually worse. Sometimes it is in my mouth;
sometimes--if I feel that I have offended anybody--it is in my boots."

Miss Hartley paid no heed.

"It is in my boots now," said the invalid, plaintively; "tight boots,
too. Do you know what I was thinking just now when you looked at me in
that alarmed, compassionate way?"

"Not alarmed," muttered Miss Hartley.

"I was thinking," pursued Mr. Vyner, in a rapt voice, "I was thinking
what a fine nurse you would make. Talking of heart troubles put it in
my mind, I suppose. Fancy being down for a month or two with a complaint
that didn't hurt or take one's appetite away, and having you for a
nurse!"

"I think that if you are going to talk nonsense--" began Joan, half
stopping.

"I'm not," said the other, in alarm, "I've quite finished; I have,
indeed."

He stole a glance at the prim young, figure by his side, and his voice
again developed a plaintive note. "If you only knew what it was like,"
he continued, "to be mewed up in an office all day, with not a soul to
speak to, and the sun shining, perhaps you'd make allowances."

"I saw you down by the harbour this morning," said the girl.

"Harbour?" said the other, pretending to reflect--"this morning?"

Joan nodded. "Yes; you were lounging about--in the sunshine--smoking a
cigarette. Then you went on to the _India