tter greatly, as propriety would be saved by
their nearness to the larger boats; and so the party started
together.

But this arrangement, though excellent, did not last long; for,
curiously enough, the dingey soon began to take a formidable lead of
the next boat, in which the traitorous Moggridge was pulling stroke,
and gazing, with what courage he could summon, into Sophia's eyes.
Indeed, so quickly was the lead increased, that at the end of two
miles the larger boats had shrunk to mere spots in the distance.

The declining sun shone in Sam's eyes as he rowed, and his companion,
with her sunshade so disposed as to throw her face into shadow,
observed him in calm silence. The sunshade was of scarlet silk, and
in the softened light stealing through it her cheek gained all the
freshness of maidenhood. Her white gown, gathered about the waist
with a band of scarlet, not only fitted her figure to perfection, but
threw up the colour of her skin into glowing relief. To Sam she
appeared a miracle of coolness and warmth; and as yet no word was
spoken.

At length, and not until they had passed the Dearloves' cottage, she
asked--

"Why were you late?"

"Was I missed?"

"Of course. You younger men of Troy seem strangely blind to your
duties--and your chances."

The last three words came as if by after-thought; Sam looked up
quickly.

"Chances? You said 'chances,' I believe?"

"I did. Was there not Miss Saunders, for instance?"

Sam's lip curled.

"Miss Saunders is not a chance; she is a certainty. Did she, for
instance, announce that the beauty of the day made her sad--that even
amid the wealth of summer something inside her whispered 'Autumn'?"

"She did."

"She always does; I have never picnicked with Miss Saunders but
something inside her whispered 'Autumn'!"

"A small bore," suggested Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, "that never misses
fire."

Sam tittered and resumed--

"If it comes to duties, your husband sets the example; he hasn't
moved from the club window to-day."

"Oh!" she exclaimed shortly, "I never asked you to imitate my
husband."

Sam ceased rowing and looked up; he was familiar with the tone, but
had never heard it so emphasised before.

"Look here," he said; "something's wrong, that's plain. It's a rude
question, but--does he neglect you?"

She laughed with some bitterness, and perhaps with a touch of
self-contempt.

"You are right; it is a rude question: but--he does not."

There w