“Oh, we’re awfully happy, aren’t we?” said Oliver, grimly humorous. “Don’t cry, darling! I want to think. There’s no law against our getting married—even if we don’t live together—that I can see, is there? It would make things more sure anyway, and I guess we’d be a lot happier.” “Oh, Oliver! Deceiving everyone! I couldn’t do it! Why, I’d be miserable every time I went to church!” “No, you wouldn’t. There’d be no harm done to anyone. You’re old enough to manage your own life, and no one has any right to know how you do it.” Oliver spoke with blunt decision. “You love me and I love you, and if we choose to marry—well, it doesn’t matter a damn to anyone else. I may not be good enough for you, but that’s your business, not Arthur’s. If I’m good enough to love, I’m good enough to marry.” “Yes.” Dubiously came Maggie’s answer. “But then, Oliver darling, what’s the use? We couldn’t be together any more than we are. And we——” “That’s rot, isn’t it?” Vigorously Oliver overruled her argument. “Well, anyway, you marry me and see!” “Ah, but I’m afraid. The beast—the beast might do you a mischief!” There was almost a wail in Maggie’s words, but Oliver’s hearty laugh drowned it. “Bless the girl! What next? Seems I’d better carry a pitchfork about with me. No, now listen! I’ll fix it all up, and I won’t even tell you till it’s all cut and dried. Then one day you and I’ll go into Fordestown to market, and when we come back we’ll—” Inarticulate whispering ended the sentence. “There now! Will you do that?” “I don’t know, Oliver. I’m frightened. I’m sure it isn’t right, and yet I don’t know why.” Maggie’s answer sounded piteous, yet somehow Frances knew that her arms were clinging about her lover’s neck. There came a pause, then Oliver’s cheery voice. “There now! Don’t you fret yourself! You may take it from me, it is right. And I’m going in to Fordestown to-morrow to get it settled. Mind, I shan’t say another word to you till everything is ready. You won’t back out? Promise!” “Back out! Oh, darling—darling!” Broken sounds came from Maggie that brought Frances to an abrupt realization of her position. She straightened herself and got up. Her knees were still trembling, but she forced them into action. She tottered down the passage to the nearest door and out on to the brick path that led to the garden. The sun was going down. She passed between tall hollyhocks and sunflowers into the kitchen-garden. The lawn lay beyond. It was further than she had thought, and her strength was failing her. She came upon a rough bench set against the wall out of sight of the house and dropped down upon it with a feeling that she could go no further. How long she had sat there she could not have said, for she was very near to fainting, when there came the sound of a man’s feet on the path beside her, and, looking up, she saw Arthur in his shirt-sleeves, a spade on his shoulder. He stopped beside her, and drove his spade into the ground.