r eyes seemed drinking in the movements of the Rector's lips,
her whole being seemed hanging on his words. It is true her dim eyes saw
nothing but a blur, her poor deaf ears could not hear one word, but she
sat at the angle she was used to, and thought of nothing at all. And
perhaps it was better so, for she was near her end.

Outside the churchyard, in the sun-warmed grass, the fox-terriers lay
one against the other, pretending to shiver, with their small bright
eyes fixed on the church door, and the rubbery nostrils of the spaniel
John worked ever busily beneath the wicket gate.

CHAPTER VIII

GREGORY VIGIL PROPOSES

About three o'clock that afternoon a tall man walked up the avenue at
Worsted Skeynes, in one hand carrying his hat, in the other a small
brown bag. He stopped now and then, and took deep breaths, expanding
the nostrils of his straight nose. He had a fine head, with wings of
grizzled hair. His clothes were loose, his stride was springy. Standing
in the middle of the drive, taking those long breaths, with his moist
blue eyes upon the sky, he excited the attention of a robin, who ran
out of a rhododendron to see, and when he had passed began to whistle.
Gregory Vigil turned, and screwed up his humorous lips, and, except that
he was completely lacking in embonpoint, he had a certain resemblance to
this bird, which is supposed to be peculiarly British.

He asked for Mrs. Pendyce in a high, light voice, very pleasant to the
ear, and was at once shown to the white morning-room.

She greeted him affectionately, like many women who have grown used to
hearing from their husbands the formula "Oh! your people!"--she had a
strong feeling for her kith and kin.

"You know, Grig," she said, when her cousin was seated, "your letter was
rather disturbing. Her separation from Captain Bellew has caused such
a lot of talk about here. Yes; it's very common, I know, that sort of
thing, but Horace is so----! All the squires and parsons and county
people we get about here are just the same. Of course, I'm very fond of
her, she's so charming to look at; but, Gregory, I really don't dislike
her husband. He's a desperate sort of person--I think that's rather,
refreshing; and you know I do think she's a little like him in that!"

The blood rushed up into Gregory Vigil's forehead; he put his hand to
his head, and said:

"Like him? Like that man? Is a rose like an artichoke?"

Mrs. Pendyce went on:

"I enjoyed havin