She had in her bare hand a little bunch of palm, the soft woolly buds on them covered with yellow dust. She held them towards Wentworth, and he looked at them with grave attention. The cob, a privileged person, of urbane and distinguished manners, suddenly elongated towards them a mobile upper lip, his sleek head slightly on one side, his kind, sly eyes half shut. "Conrad," said Wentworth, "we never ask. We only take what is given us." Fay laughed, and gave them both a twig. Wentworth drew his through his buttonhole. Conrad twisted his in his strong yellow teeth, turned it over, and then spat it out. The action, though of doubtful taste in itself, was ennobled by his perfect rendering of it. He brought it, so to speak, forever within the sphere of exquisite manners. Wentworth led him back to the path, tied him to a tree, and then came back and sat down at a little distance from Fay on the same trunk. He had somehow nothing to say, but of course he should think of something striking directly. One of Fay's charms was that she did not talk much. A young couple close at hand were not hampered by any doubts as to a choice of subject. From among the roots of a clump of alder rose a sweet little noise of mouse talk, intermittent, _affairé_, accompanied by sudden rustlings and dartings under dead leaves, momentary glimpses of a tiny brown bride and bridegroom. Ah! wedded bliss! Ah! youth and sunshine, and the joy of life in a new soft silken coat! Fay and Wentworth watched and listened, smiling at each other from time to time. "I am forced to the conclusion," said Wentworth at last, "that even in these early days Mrs. Mouse does not listen to all Mr. Mouse says." "How could she, poor thing, when he never leaves off talking?" "Well, neither does she. They both talk at once. I suppose they have not our morbid craving for a listener." "Do you think--I mean really and truly--that they are talking about themselves?" said Fay, looking at Wentworth as if any announcement of his on the subject would be considered final. "No doubt," he said indulgently, willing to humour her, and feeling more like a cavalier than ever. Then he actually noticed how pale she was. "You look tired," he said. "I am afraid the storm last night kept you awake." "Yes," she said, and hung her head.