me up to date."

"Oh, yes, we mean to do that, but we must proceed very gradually."

"You have made an excellent start," I put in.

"Otherwise you would only be shocked."

"It is quite possible." I said this with so much conviction that the two
burst out laughing at me. I could not think of anything more to add, and
I felt relieved when, with a warning shriek, the train dashed into a
tunnel. By the time we had emerged again into the sunlight and the
solitude of the open landscape I had ready an impromptu which I had
been working at in the darkness. I looked straight at Miss Metford and
said:

"After all, it is very pleasant to travel with girls like you."

"Thank you!"

"You did not show any hysterical fear of my kissing you in the tunnel."

"Why the deuce would you do that?" Miss Metford replied with great
composure, as she blew a smoke ring.

When we reached our destination I braced myself for another disagreeable
minute or two. For if the great Londoners thought us quaint, surely the
little country station idlers would swear we were demented. We crossed
the platform so quickly that the wonderment we created soon passed. Our
luggage was looked after by a servant, to whose care I confided it with
a very brief description. The loss of an item of it did not seem to me
of as much importance as our own immediate departure.

Brande met us at his hall door. His house was a pleasant one, covered
with flowering creeping plants, and surrounded by miniature forests. In
front there was a lake four hundred yards in width. Close-shaven lawns
bordered it. They were artificial products, no doubt, but they were
artificial successes--undulating, earth-scented, fresh rolled every
morning. Here there was an isolated shrub, there a thick bank of
rhododendrons. And the buds, bursting into floral carnival, promised
fine contrasts when their full splendour was come. The lake wavelets
tinkled musically on a pebbly beach.

Our host could not entertain us in person. He was busy. The plea was
evidently sincere, notwithstanding that the business of a country
gentleman--which he now seemed to be--is something less exacting than
busy people's leisure. After a short rest, and an admirably-served
lunch, we were dismissed to the woods for our better amusement.

Thereafter followed for me a strangely peaceful, idyllic day--all save
its ending. Looking back on it, I know that the sun which set that
evening went down on the last of my happ