"I know. But there was a world before 1914. I think your occupation's wonderful, but isn't it a little unnatural--unfair to yourself and others--to give it the whole of your life? As estates go, I fancy the possibilities of Eden were even more amazing than those of Gramarye--I daresay you won't admit that, but then you're biassed--and yet the introduction of Eve was considered advisable." "With the result that ..." Miss Strongi'th'arm laughed. "With the result that you and I are alive this glorious day, with our destinies in our pockets and the great round world at our feet. I wonder whether I ought to go into a nunnery." "I've tried kicking the world," said Anthony, "and I'm still lame from it. And Fate picked my pocket months and months ago." "So Faint Heart turned into the first monastery he came to," said André, leaning forward and caressing her hunter's neck. "What d'you think of that, Joshua?" As if by way of comment, the horse snorted, and Anthony found himself joining in Miss Strongi'th'arm's mirth. "There's hope for you yet," gurgled that lady. "Your sense of humour is still kicking. And that under the mud appears to be a scrap of a dog. When you take your final vows, will you give him to me?" "In my monastery," said Lyveden, "monks are allowed to keep dogs. There is also no rule against laughter." "Isn't there, now?" flashed André. "I wonder why? There's no rule against idleness either, is there?" She laughed bitterly. "Rules are made to cope with inclinations. Where there's no inclination----" She broke off suddenly and checked her horse. Setting her hand upon Lyveden's shoulder, she looked into his eyes. "You laughed just now, didn't you? When did you last laugh before that?" Anthony stared back. The girl's intuition was uncanny. Now that he came to think of it, Winchester and his little band never laughed over their work--never. There was--she was perfectly right--there was no inclination. Eagerness, presumably, left no room for Merriment. Or else the matter was too high, too thoughtful. Not that they laboured sadly--far from it. Indeed, their daily round was one long festival. But Laughter was not at the board. Neither forbidden, nor bidden to the feast, she just stayed away. Yet Mirth was no hang-back.... Anthony found himself marvelling. "Who are you?" he said suddenly, For a second the brown eyes danced; then their lids hid them. With flushed cheeks the girl sat up on her horse. "Who am I? I'm a daughter of Eve, Major Lyveden. Eve, who cost Adam his Gramarye. So you be careful. Bar your door of nights. Frame rules against laughter and idleness--just to be on the safe side. And next time a girl drops her crop----" "I hope," said Anthony gravely, "I hope I shall be behind her to pick it up and have the honour of her company to turn a mile into a furlong." "O-o-oh, blasphemy!" cried André, pretending to stop her ears. "Whatever would Gramarye say? Come on, Joshua."