Mary was quite pleased with her husband's good temper. It was so nice of him not to find fault with her plan; 'He's so good to me,' she thought, and that was what she often said to her brother, who did not care much for Darnell. They sat down on the seat under the mulberry, close together, and she let Darnell take her hand, and as she felt his shy, hesitating fingers touch her in the shadow, she pressed them ever so softly, and as he fondled her hand, his breath was on her neck, and she heard his passionate, hesitating voice whisper, 'My dear, my dear,' as his lips touched her cheek. She trembled a little, and waited. Darnell kissed her gently on the cheek and drew away his hand, and when he spoke he was almost breathless. 'We had better go in now,' he said. 'There is a heavy dew, and you might catch cold.' A warm, scented gale came to them from beyond the walls. He longed to ask her to stay out with him all night beneath the tree, that they might whisper to one another, that the scent of her hair might inebriate him, that he might feel her dress still brushing against his ankles. But he could not find the words, and it was absurd, and she was so gentle that she would do whatever he asked, however foolish it might be, just because he asked her. He was not worthy to kiss her lips; he bent down and kissed her silk bodice, and again he felt that she trembled, and he was ashamed, fearing that he had frightened her. They went slowly into the house, side by side, and Darnell lit the gas in the drawing-room, where they always sat on Sunday evenings. Mrs. Darnell felt a little tired and lay down on the sofa, and Darnell took the arm-chair opposite. For a while they were silent, and then Darnell said suddenly-- 'What's wrong with the Sayces? You seemed to think there was something a little strange about them. Their maid looks quite quiet.' 'Oh, I don't know that one ought to pay any attention to servants' gossip. They're not always very truthful.' 'It was Alice told you, wasn't it?' 'Yes. She was speaking to me the other day, when I was in the kitchen in the afternoon.' 'But what was it?' 'Oh, I'd rather not tell you, Edward. It's not pleasant. I scolded Alice for repeating it to me.' Darnell got up and took a small, frail chair near the sofa. 'Tell me,' he said again, with an odd perversity. He did not really care to hear about the household next door, but he remembered how his wife's cheeks flushed in the afternoon, and now he was looking at her eyes. 'Oh, I really couldn't tell you, dear. I should feel ashamed.' 'But you're my wife.' 'Yes, but it doesn't make any difference. A woman doesn't like to talk about such things.' Darnell bent his head down. His heart was beating; he put his ear to her mouth and said, 'Whisper.' Mary drew his head down still lower with her gentle hand, and her cheeks burned as she whispered-- 'Alice says that--upstairs--they have only--one room furnished. The maid told her--herself.'