There were other things as well. A great friend of hers, with whom she had been accustomed to spend long days in the saddle, or in the company of dogs in endless walks over moors, had been married only a month ago, for no other reason, as far as Maud or Kitty Danefield herself knew, but the one that every girl married if possible, that it was the natural thing to do. Maud had seen her again only two days ago for the first time since her marriage, and had found quite a different person. Kitty had become a woman, radiantly happy, with an absorbing interest in life which seemed quite to have eclipsed the loves of earlier days. She still liked horses, dogs, great open country, Maud herself; but all these things which had been the first ingredients of existence had gone into a secondary place, and the one thing that made life now was her husband. To Maud this was all perfectly incomprehensible--would Anthony, if she accepted him, ever fill existence like that? She could not help feeling that existence would be a much narrower thing if he did. Kitty, in fact, had just arrived, and had rushed at Maud. "Darling, I am so pleased to see you!" she said, "and we'll have a nice long talk. Where's Arthur! Arthur is really too tiresome; he asked Tom Liscombe to come down with us when I had counted on a nice quiet empty carriage all to ourselves. He didn't want him, nor did I; but that is so like Arthur, to do good-natured things from a sort of vague weakness. He saw Tom, and asked him without thinking what he was doing. You look rather careworn, Maud. What is it now?" "Oh, come for a stroll, Kitty," said the other; "I want to talk." "Very well; I must say good-bye to Arthur." Maud laughed. "Oh, you ridiculous person," she said; "you will be away ten minutes. Would you like to make your will, too?" "Well, if it's only ten minutes--oh, he's looking. There!" and she waved a tiny morsel of a handkerchief to him. Maud looked at her with grave attention. "Now, I cannot understand that," she said. "No, dear, of course not. You're not married. I should have thought it as ridiculous as you before. By the way, Maud--oh, _that's_ why you look careworn. Is it true you are going to marry Anthony Maxwell? Darling, how nice, and _simply_ rolling!" "You think that is important?" asked Maud. "Why, of course. It's the only crumpled rose-leaf Arthur and I have. It makes us quite miserable; there's always that little ghost in the corner. Can we afford this? Can we spare the money for that? But you haven't answered me. Is it true?" "I haven't the slightest idea," said Maud. Kitty laughed. "You absurd creature!" she said; "you must know. Has he proposed to you?" "No, but he has told mother he wants to. And he has been stalking me all the afternoon." Kitty turned quickly back.