Miss French's reappearance had affected the dog powerfully. One October day he had known her for Anthony's darling, and as such had become her vassal. He had since seen no reason to withdraw his fealty. As we have seen, at her coming he had leaped for joy. Occasion and personage, however, deserved more honour than that. Ever since the three had begun their ramble, he had been scouring the undergrowth for an offering meet to be laid at the lady's shining feet. It was the way of his heart. Not until Miss French and Lyveden were standing beside a tottering bridge, and the latter was pointing the traces of a vista which once had gladdened all eyes with its sweetness, but was now itself blind, did the little squire happen upon a treasure worthy in his sight to be bestowed. At this juncture, however, a particularly unsavoury smell attracted his straining nostrils.... A moment later what was, despite the ravages of decomposition, still recognizable as the corpse of a large black bird was deposited with every circumstance of cheerful devotion immediately at Valerie's feet. To ignore such a gift was impossible. Its nature and condition saw to that. To accept it was equally out of the question. But tacitly to reject such a love-token needed a harder heart than Valerie's or, for the matter of that, than Anthony's, either. Miss French gave a queer little cry of mingled distaste and appreciation, and Anthony hesitated, lost the thread of his discourse, and stopped. "How very sweet of you, Patch! No, I mustn't touch it because I'm not allowed dead birds. But I do thank you." She patted the panting head. "Look. Here's a stone I'll throw for you--down into the brook. I'm sure it'll be good for you to wash your mouth." She flung the pebble, and the dog went flying. Valerie turned to Lyveden with a glowing face. "Don't think I'm fishing for another dead bird, but I wish I could feel you'd forgiven me as truly as Patch. Oh, Anthony, I just can't tell you how deadly ashamed I feel, how----" "My dear girl, you mustn't talk like this. I knew there was some misunderstanding--I didn't know what--and I----" "I thought you cared for Anne Alison." "Oh, Valerie...." The wistful reproach of his tone, the sad-faced ghost of a protesting smile hovering about his lips, brought tears to Valerie's eyes. "Well, well.... I'm so glad I'm cleared in your eyes. I'd 've hated you to go through life thinking that I--was like that...." Suddenly he caught at her arm and pointed to the ramshackle bridge. "There's another instance of the rot we're out to stop. Another winter, and that bridge 'd be in the stream, damming it at the deepest and narrowest point. Result, the water's diverted and spreads all over the road, trying to find another way into its channel. No road can stand that, of course. Gradually----" "Tell me more of yourself," said Valerie. Anthony let go her arm and put a hand to his head.