"Well, I can only judge from your words." "I'm _not_!"--pouting. "Well, there, I won't say any more. He stayed to luncheon, you said?" "Yes," defiantly, "and tea and supper; why shouldn't he?" "Oh, I don't see why he shouldn't, only it must have been a visitation. I should think your father was rather bored." Fanny said nothing, but went on with her chain. "What sort of looking fellow is he?" "He's very nice-looking; at least he's rather fat--you know the sort of man I mean." "And awfully rich?" "Awfully." Leavesley tore up grass leisurely and viciously. "Your uncle is awfully rich too, isn't he?" asked Miss Lambert after a moment's silence. "Yes; why?" "I was only thinking." "What were you only thinking?" "I was thinking if I had to marry one or the other, which I'd chose." Leavesley squirmed with pleasure: that was one for Bevan. He instinctively hated Bevan. He, little knowing the mind of Miss Lambert, thought this indecision of choice between his uncle and another man an exquisitely veiled method of describing the other man's undesirability. "Marry uncle," he said with a laugh. "And then we can all live together in Gordon Square, uncle, and you, and I, and aunt, and old Verneede. The house would hold the lot of us." "And father." "Of course," said Leavesley, thinking she spoke in fun, "and a few more--the Captain: you don't know the Captain; he's a treasure, and would make the menagerie quite complete." "And we could go for picnics," said Fanny. "Rather!" She had finished her daisy-chain, and with a charming and child-like movement she suddenly leaned forward and threw it round his neck. "Oh, Fanny," he cried, taking both her little hands in his, "what's the good of talking nonsense? I _love_ you, and you'll never marry any one but me." Fanny began to cry just like a little child, and he crept up to her and put his arm round her waist. "I love you, Fanny. Listen, darling, I love you----" "Don't--don't--don't!" sobbed the girl, nestling closer to him at each "don't." "Why?" "I was thinking just the same." "What?" "That I----" "That you----?" "_Don't!_" "That you love me?" Silence interspersed with sobs, then-- "I don't love you, but I--could----" "What?" "Love you--but I mustn't." Leavesley heaved a deep sigh of content, squeezed her closer and rocked her slightly. She allowed herself to be nursed like this for a few heavenly moments; then she broke away from him, pushed him away. "I mustn't, I mustn't--don't!--do leave me alone--go away." She increased the distance between them. Tears were on her long black lashes--lashes tipped with brown--and her eyes were like passion flowers after rain--to use a simile that has never been used before. Leavesley had got on his hands and knees to crawl closer towards her, and the intense seriousness of his face, coupled with the attitude of his body, quite dispelled Miss Lambert's inclination to weep.