But, polite and kind and hospitable as Boldero was, he was yet not quite as Maud would have liked him to be. His mirth, formerly so ready and unconstrained, had departed. He made no approach to familiarity, scarcely to unconstraint. He was ready to talk, if she began the conversation; but he was equally well pleased to ride for miles without a word. His object seemed to be to make her journey pleasant, but he gave no symptom that it pleased himself. He never for a moment forgot that she was the Colonel's lady and he the District officer in attendance upon her. This reserve jarred somehow with Maud's idea of what was interesting, natural, romantic. Many nice men, most nice men, she thought, were eager in rushing into friendship with her and required a little putting down. It was provoking that Boldero showed no tendency to stand in need of this gentle repression. She had liked him especially last year and he had seemed quite alive and responsive to the fact; now it piqued her that, beyond the assiduous politeness required by his position as a host, he showed no symptom of being fascinated; in plain language he quite declined to flirt, and yet she gave him every opportunity. This was provoking, since Maud herself felt especially disposed to be gracious. 'Now,' she said, after luncheon, when Boldero showed symptoms of retreating, 'please do not go away to smoke; let us sit in this pleasant shade--you shall read me some poetry--no--if you like, you shall smoke and I will read to you. See, now, I have my beloved Browning--I am so fond of this.' And Maud began to read, which she did very nicely:-- Constance, I know not how it is with men: For women (I am a woman now like you) There is no good of life but love--but love! What else looks good is some shade flung from love; Love gilds it, gives it worth. Be warned by me, Never you cheat yourself one instant! Love, Give love, ask only love, and leave the rest! 'Will you have some more of this hock before it is packed up?' said Boldero, in the most determined manner. 'No, thank you,' said Maud, with a sigh of real annoyance, 'I will not have any more hock before it is packed up nor shall you have any more poetry. And why, kind Fates, is it that I have so prosaic a companion for my journey just when I happen to feel poetical?' 'It was because the prosy companion happened to be going at the right moment,' Boldero said; 'I am afraid this sounds very unromantic too, but I advise you to go into the tent and have a thorough rest before we start again. And, by the way, I shall be sending back to the camp: do you want to write a line to Sutton?' 'Of all things!' cried Maud. 'And I shall tell him how pleasant you have been about the poetry.' Before their Elysian residence was ended Maud discovered that it was Boldero's particular function to recall her husband to her thoughts: sometimes at moments when oblivion would have been preferable. CHAPTER XXXII. A GRASS WIDOW.