It was then for the first time that she felt that she was Charles's mistress, even as Edward was Charles's master. The dog and the woman went out together into the sunshine, and there, between blue sky and green grass, embraced with all the emotions proper to deliverer and delivered. When Edward rejoined them, five minutes later, she was able to say, quite calmly: "Yes, he found me out. He _is_ clever. He is a darling." "He deserves a jolly good hiding," said Edward, "and I've a jolly good mind to give it to him." "Let him off this time," she said, "it was so clever of him to find me out. He hadn't hurt any of the sheep, had he?" "No," said he, "but he might have." "Oh, if we come to might-have-beens," said she, "I might not be here, he might not be here. We all might not be here. Think of that. No, don't look at him with that 'wait-till-I-get-you-home' expression. Forgive him and be done with it." And when she looked at him like that, as he told himself, what could he do but forgive the dog? "Why," he said, "of course I'll forgive him!" adding, with one of those diabolical flashes of insight to which our subconscious selves are sometimes liable. "Why, I'd forgive Schultz himself if you asked me like that." "It isn't Mr. Schultz I want you to forgive," she said, "it's Charles--Charles that I love." "Not Schultz whom you like." "I hate Schultz," said she, so vehemently that he wondered. Because always before she had defended the man and called him kind and helpful. It was, however, so pleasant to him that she should hate Schultz that he put his wonder by to taste that pleasure. She had the self-control to wait till they were gliding through the streets of Warwick before she said, "Do you want to stay here any longer?" "Not if you don't," said he. "I should like to go to Chester," she said, "now--this evening. Would you mind? There's such lots to see, and something might happen at any moment to stop our--" "Our incredible honeymoon?" he said. "But what could?" "Oh, Aunt Alice might be ill and want me"--and hated herself for the words. The moment she had uttered them she felt that in using her as a defense she had almost as good as called down the wrath of the gods on Aunt Alice, whom she loved. "Oh, a thousand things might happen," she added, quickly.