They were tramping the moors. The wind had compelled her to take off her hat and carry it and had put colour into her cheeks. Anthony thought she looked very handsome with her fine eyes flashing beneath their level brows. In their talk they had lost their tracks and were making a bee line for the descent. A stream barred their way. It babbled over stones and round the roots of trees. Edward picked her up to carry her across, but at the margin hesitated, doubting his muscles. “You’ll be safer with Anthony,” he said, putting her down. “It’s all right,” she said. “I don’t mind getting my feet wet.” But Anthony had already lifted her in his arms. “You’re sure I’m not too heavy?” she asked. He laughed and stepped down with her into the stream. He carried her some distance beyond the bank, explaining that the ground was still marshy. He liked the pressure of her weight upon his breast. CHAPTER VII It was the evening previous to young Mowbray’s departure for Oxford. Betty was going with him to help him furnish his rooms. They would have a few days together before term began, and she wanted to see Oxford. Anthony had come to say good-bye. Mr. Mowbray was at a dinner given by the mayor, and the three young people had been left to themselves. Betty had gone into the servants’ quarters to give some orders. The old housekeeper had died the year before and Betty had taken over the entire charge. They were sitting in the library. The great drawing-room was used only when there was company. “Look in now and again when I am away,” said Edward. “Betty hasn’t many friends and she likes talking to you.” “And I like talking to her tremendously,” answered Anthony. “But, I say, will it be proper?” “Oh, what rot,” answered Edward. “You’re not that sort, either of you. Besides, things are different to what they used to be. Why shouldn’t there be just friendship between men and women?” Betty entered as he finished speaking, and the case was put to her. “Yes, I shall be sorry to miss our talks,” she said. She turned to Anthony with a smile. “How old are you?” she asked. “Sixteen,” he answered. She was surprised. “I thought you were older,” she said. “Sixteen last birthday,” he persisted. “People have always taken me for older than I am. Mother used to have terrible fights with the tram conductors; they would have I was nearer five than three. She thought quite seriously of sewing a copy of my birth certificate inside my cap.” He laughed. “You’re only a boy,” said Betty. “I’m nearly nineteen. Yes, come and see me sometimes.” Edward expected to be at Oxford three years. After that he would return to Millsborough and enter his father’s office. Mowbray and Cousins was the name of the firm, but Cousins had long passed out of it, and eventually the whole business would belong to Edward.