ed Dyce. "No doubt she had a reason for saying
nothing. You, possibly, could suggest it?"

His face had changed. There was cold annoyance in his look and in his
voice.

"It must have been mere accident," said May.

"That it certainly wasn't. How long will Dymchurch stay?"

"I have no idea, Mr. Lashmar.--I must leave you. Many thanks for taking
so much trouble to bring me the news."

She held out her hand. Dyce took and detained it.

"I am going to stay on at Hollingford," he said, "at the hotel. I shall
run up to town this evening, but be back to-morrow. At lunchtime to-day
I shall see you, but of course that doesn't count; we shan't be able to
talk, Wednesday, to-morrow; on Thursday morning meet me here again,
will you?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Lashmar," she answered with
self-possession; trying, unobtrusively, to withdraw her hand.

"I beg you to! Indeed, you must."

He tried the power of a smile meant to be at once virile and tender,
but May was steadily drawing away her hand; he had not the courage to
hold it forcibly.

"We shall find other opportunities of talking about the things that
interest us," she said, moving a step back.

"It surprises me that you came this morning!" Dyce exclaimed, with a
touch of sarcasm.

"Then," May answered loftily, "you will be spared a second surprise."

She turned and left him. Dyce, after watching for a moment her graceful
figure, strode in pursuit. They were near the summer-house.

"You are forgetting," he said, "that you have left the key in the door."

May uttered an exclamation of alarm.

"How foolish of me! Thank you so much!"

"I fear I must give you the trouble of walking back, to let me out."

"Why, of course."

They returned to the door, and Dyce again took the offered hand.

"I shall be here at eight on Thursday," he said. "Unless it rains. In
that case, on the first fine morning."

"I don't promise to meet you."

"I will come without a promise."

"As you like," said May, slowly closing the door upon him. "But don't
prepare for yourself another surprise."

She regained the house, having met no one but a gardener. Within, she
encountered no one at all. Safe in her room, she reflected on the
morning's adventure, and told herself that it had been, in a double
sense, decidedly dangerous. Were Constance Bride or Lady Ogram to know
of this clandestine rendezvous, what a storm would break! On that
account alone she would have been glad of