"I'd far rather be like you, with all your liberty, Aunt Elizabeth. For, after all, though one _does_ hear of happy marriages"--she paused--"they're rather rare, aren't they? And if one marries for love ... it's that--or _nothing_!" Her face was grave. "How can one tell it's going to last?" For once her Aunt found no reply. So the mornings would pass away in work and argument, strangely happy, followed by long afternoons in the open air with McTaggart. Jill looked the picture of health, with sunburnt cheeks and healthy nerves. For the summer had triumphed over the rain and a long spell of drought succeeded. London was clearing fast of its smart crowd, and the streets and parks seemed to draw a breath of relief, freed from the daily whirl. Few people lingered in town, save the workers, and, here and there, a scattered fragment of society detained by some passing need. Among the bright birds of passage was Lady Leason. McTaggart met her one July morning coming briskly forth from her tailor's. "Well--this _is_ nice!" He stopped and shook hands. "I thought you and Dick had gone to Cowes?" "No--I'm a lone widow"--she smiled. "I'm off next week to join him in Scotland. I've been trying on some shooting clothes"--she produced a pattern--"How d'you like it?" "Heather mixture--nice stuff," he fingered it with approval. "It's simply ages since I've seen you--I've only been back a little time and meant to call, but heard you had gone. Shall you be at home next Sunday?" "What are you doing this evening? Come and dine--that would be better. I've got Bertram staying with me--my cousin. He's up for the Church Congress." "I'd love to. Is that the Bishop?" and as she nodded--"at eight o'clock?" "Yes--as usual. We'll have a chat--just ourselves--that will be nice. You haven't missed much this season--everything spoilt by rain. Ascot was like the Flood and I didn't get a single winner!" "Hard luck!" said McTaggart. He saw her into a taxi and stood for a moment leaning on the door. "I don't know what you'll get to eat"--the pretty grey-haired woman smiled--"half the servants have gone to Scotland--Bertram and I lead the simple life!" "I'm not particular"--he laughed--"so long as you don't give me rabbit!" This was an old joke between them. Once they had stayed in a country house where the hostess was noted for frugality and rabbit had figured on the menu to an alarming extent. Beginning with cold pie at breakfast, a curry (with suspicious bones) had proved the hot dish at lunch and a "chicken cream" figured at dinner in which McTaggart had found a shot! So he declared. And ever after the hostess in private had been named "Bunny" in Lady Leason's set. McTaggart smiled at the recollection. He was going that afternoon to take Miss Uniacke for a final drive, with Jill and Roddy; for on the morrow she was leaving her sister-in-law.