“A lovely pauper, an adorable pauper, an angelic———” “Stop! stop! You flatter too much. You don’t mean what you say.” “Not a word,” confessed Alan candidly. Marie grew red and her eyes flashed. “Then how dare you say such things!” “You expect me to and you shouldn’t fish.” “In shallow water? Certainly not! Alan Eric Reginald Fuller,” she gave him his complete name and pinched his arm, “you are a bear.” “Bears hug,” said the lover, taking her in his arms. “Oh, my gracious, you will get me into trouble,” cried Marie, extricating herself with some difficulty and flying across the lawn, followed hot-footed by Alan. “Come and hide out of sight of those horrid windows. Uncle Ran is sure to see us otherwise, and will order me indoors. Come! come,” she sang like a siren and fled after the fashion of Atalanta into the woods. The trees were bare of leaves, but here and there a fir stood up green and sombre, while the undergrowth of brambles and grass and ferns and various weeds had not yet lost their autumnal tints so that the park did not as yet look entirely wintry. The day was warm too for late November, and pale sunshine irradiated the grey depths of the sky, so that the birds had plucked up heart to sing, perhaps in the hope of averting coming snows. At top-speed Marie flew down a side path which twisted and straightened at intervals for a considerable distance until it ended In a kind of sunken dell in the centre of which was a circle of cemented stones rising slightly above the fading herbage. Over this was a wooden canopy of ancient appearance with a tiled red roof weather-worn and mellow, and beneath, a deep hole which seemed to penetrate into the bowels of the earth. This was St. Peter’s Dell and St. Peter’s Well since the monastery had been dedicated to the chief of the Apostles. Marie loved the spot, and haunted it in summer for the sake of its coolness. Now she came because she knew that her philanderings with the forbidden lover would not be seen by anyone. “And Uncle Ran is asleep,” she explained as she perched herself on the ragged rim of stones. “He always sleeps for an hour in the afternoon, because he says that it keeps him alive.” “I wish it didn’t,” growled Alan, placing himself beside the girl, and putting an arm round her, probably to prevent her from falling into the depths. “I don’t like your Uncle Ran, dear.” “Since he won’t let you make love to me, I can quite understand that,” said Marie rather pertly; “but he’s all the relative I have so I must make the best of him, Alan. But you haven’t told me how I am looking.” “Why, I’ve used at least a dozen adjectives. But I shall examine you carefully, darling, and give you my honest opinion.”