“It is quite time that Alice was home,” said her husband with authority. “Half-past seven!” walking to the window and looking at his watch. “Geoffrey promised to fetch her. You ought to start, Geoff,” said Helen. “You know that this is market-night, and her abject fear of drunken men is no secret.” “She need not go as far as the road for them,” remarked Reginald. “Just now I met an under-gardener endeavouring to walk up both sides of the avenue at once.” “Come, Geoff, you had better be off if you are going.” “Oh, I’m exhausted,” replied Geoffrey. “I really could not think of taking any more exercise to-day.” “But you promised,” urged his cousin emphatically. “Promised, did I?” he replied, rising languidly and deliberately arranging a cushion behind his head as he settled himself into the snuggest corner of the sofa. “Oh, Alice is accustomed to my promises by this time; she knows they are like piecrust--made to be broken. Besides, Alice has a young and active husband. Pedestrian exercise is good for these Anglo-Indians; let him go.” “But, Geoffrey----” “‘But me no buts;’ I won’t stir till the first bell rings, if then. That girl has already run me off my legs, and if she is mad enough to start for a two-miles’ walk at this time of night, I am not. I prefer lying here”--shutting his eyes--“and thinking of dinner.” “Well, Geoffrey,” exclaimed Reginald indignantly, taking up his hat, “if you won’t go, _I_ must. Where does this sick girl live?” “Go out by the lower avenue, turn to the left, and follow your nose--it’s straight, isn’t it?--till you come to a plantation; go through that, and you will see a field, and in the field a cottage. And you had better look sharp, my dear boy; it’s getting late.” As the door closed, Geoffrey started up and began capering about the room. “Did I not do that splendidly?” he asked, stopping and rubbing his hands. “Haven’t I arranged for a nice little conjugal _tête-à-tête_, and isn’t he just swearing at me! Ten to one they will have a battle-royal, but anything is better than this armed peace; the way in which they avoid each other is a most beautiful study in tactics.” “If you will take _my_ advice,” observed Mrs. Mayhew, “you will not put your finger in the pie. Leave it to time, and it will all come right.” “I don’t agree with you there,” replied Geoffrey. “Leave all to time and it will all go wrong, unless time is assisted by kind friends who make such judicious arrangements as this walk for example. They require as much looking after as if it were a half-developed love affair.” “Why should you busy yourself about them, an unfledged youngster like you?” asked the Honorable Mark peevishly. Perfectly ignoring the question, Geoffrey stalked over to Helen, delightfully unconscious that an antimacassar was clinging to his coat-tails.