the door, and Priscilla, in her great,
square pew near the pulpit, saw him no more. When she left the church at
the end of the service he had already disappeared.

Froggy went out to tea that afternoon with much solicitous regret, which
Priscilla treated in a spirit of levity. She packed her tea-basket again
as soon as she was alone, selecting her provisions with care. And soon
after three, accompanied by Romeo, she started for the glen, not
sauntering idly, but stepping briskly through the golden sunshine, as
one with a purpose. She felt as if she were going to a trysting-place,
though no word of a tryst had passed between them.

He was there before her, bareheaded and alert, quite obviously awaiting
her. He did not express his pleasure in words as he took her hand in
his. Only there was an indescribable look in his brown eyes that made
her very glad that she had come. He had brought an enormous basket of
strawberries, which he presented with that drawling ease of manner which
she had come to regard as peculiarly his own, and they settled down to
the afternoon's enjoyment in a harmony as complete as the summer peace
about them.

No spoken confidences passed between them. Their intimacy was such as to
make words seem superfluous. Both seemed to feel that the present was
all-sufficing.

Only once did Priscilla challenge Carfax's memory. The impulse was
irresistible at the moment, though she regretted it later. He was
holding out to her the biggest strawberry he could find. It lay on a
leaf on the palm of his hand, and as she took it she suddenly saw a
long, terrible scar extending upwards from his wrist till his sleeve hid
it from view.

"Why," she exclaimed, with a start; then, seeing his questioning look,
"surely that's a burn?"

"It is," said Carfax.

He turned his hand over to hide it. His manner seemed to indicate that
he did not wish to pursue the subject. But Priscilla, suddenly reckless,
ignored the hint.

"But how did you do it?" she asked.

Carfax hesitated for a second, then:

"It was years ago," he said, rather unwillingly. "A lady's dress caught
fire. It fell to me to put it out."

"How brave!" murmured Priscilla. Her eyes were shining. Had he looked up
then he must have read her secret.

But he did not look up. For the first time he seemed to be labouring
under some spell of embarrassment.

"It wasn't brave at all," he said, after a moment. "I could have done no
less."

There was almost