"Desperate diseases require desperate remedies. Now that we’re here, we’ll go in, and I’ll let it soak in that the place is really and truly sold." Quinney nodded, and Miss Biddlecombe continued fluently, "After I’ve seen it once more I shall never give it another thought." "Don’t be too cocksure about that!" "I tell you I shan’t, and besides, the river is certainly dangerous." "Dangerous to us?" She blushed delightfully, pressing his arm, but saying nothing. Quinney, divining her thoughts, fell more in love with her than ever. She went on artlessly, "I expect the house is damp in winter." "Dry as a bone. I asked about that." "When did you ask?" "I suppose when we looked at it." "I never heard you ask. I’m feeling quite happy about it now. I wonder whether the people who have bought it have moved in?" He was able to assure her that they hadn’t. But she asked immediately how he had come to know of the sale. "The agent told me." "When?" "When I wrote to him." "Why did you write to him?" "To make inquiries about other cottages, of course." They passed through a wicket-gate into a small garden gay in summer with larkspurs, hollyhocks, and what children call "red-hot pokers." A path of flagged stones wandered round the house. "Cosy, ain’t it?" he said. And as he spoke she noticed that his voice trembled. She tried to interpret the expression upon his shrewd whimsical face, and failed. "Are you so tremendously sorry that this lovely place is sold?" "I’m tremendously glad," he replied. "I can’t screw myself up to say that, Joe. I wonder who is coming to live here?" "A childless couple." "A childless couple!" Her face softened. "I’m sorry they’re childless. I can see children running about this garden." "And tumbling into the river!" "I was only joking about that. But perhaps——" "Exactly. They may have a dozen yet." She sighed as she surveyed the pleasance. Nothing, she decided, could ever be so exactly right again. Then Quinney said abruptly "We can’t keep your poor mother waiting for dinner." "Bother dinner. I want to have a long, last lingering look." "But you may come again, because you happen to know the man who has bought it." The note of triumph in his voice was illuminating. "Joe!" she exclaimed. "It’s you!" "Yes; it’s me. Now ain’t I a regular old rag-bag o’ surprises?" *IV*