"I thought I might as well see what turns up," rejoined he, vaguely, "take the dogs for a run, you know; and as it's a nice morning, perhaps, I may meet people. I have made myself decent"--and he looked down complacently, and advanced within her line of vision. "A new suit, Val? Turn round, and let me see you. Hum--quite nice. Are you going to the post-office? I have run out of stamps." "I _was_ going the other way, but--oh, I'll get them;" Val brightened. "I'll get them at Sutley" (Sutley was the Bolderos' village)--"and if any of those girls are about, I'll--I'll see what turns up." "I shall know where you are if you don't come back for luncheon, then." Now, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, an expedition planned on such hazy outlines would have come to grief, but strange as it may seem, no sooner did Mr. Valentine Purcell, swinging along at a high rate of speed--for he always walked as though furies were at his heels--enter the main street of Sutley village, than he espied a solitary, small, black figure advancing from the other end, and almost ere he could believe his eyes, Leonore herself was smiling into them. "Why, Val?" exclaimed she, "I am so glad to see you, Val." "Well, you might have seen me before now." Suddenly Val felt aggrieved; it was a way he had; "I'm sure I've called often enough!"--and he shook hands rather coldly; not to be won over too soon. "I am not supposed to be at home to people at present," said Leo, simply. "They think I ought not,--but I was sorry when I heard it was you the other day." "Were you in the house?"--demanded he. "Oh, yes; in the old schoolroom. I have my tea there when we are not by ourselves. I--I don't dislike it." But her face told another tale. Val, who had quite a brute instinct of sympathy, knew that she did dislike it very much. Tea was the only really pleasant meal at the Abbey; it was relieved of the general's presence, and often of Sue's also--and during the last month Leo had learnt to look forward to it. A little quiver of the lips accompanied the above assertion, for of late callers had been rather rife, and she had been banished so often that she had come to dread the sound of the door-bell. "I do think I needn't be classed as 'people';" pursued her old playmate, but without the asperity of his former accents. "I've known you ever since you were so high,"--indicating--"and--and I'm awfully sorry about it all, you know." It was only Val, Val whom nobody minded, but Leo, taken aback, flushed to her brow. "Oh, I say, ought I not to have said that? I'm such a rotter, I blurt out with whatever comes first," stammered he, discomfited in his turn. "Leo, you know I didn't mean it. There now, I suppose I oughtn't to call you 'Leo'----" floundering afresh.