arable crops! The fact of it was, old Taylor was growing too old for the responsibility of a large farm. Of course he had not the slightest intention of turning him out, but he did wish that old Taylor showed more signs of appreciating his landlord's consideration. That was the trouble with people, Sir Richard sighed to himself, one did all that was possible for them and received nothing in return. If only some of the tenants who grumbled at the least delay in carrying out necessary repairs would try to understand the point of view of the landlord. Nowadays people only tried to understand their own point of view. Yes, the age was degenerating, humanity was not what it was. The prey of these pessimistic reflections, Sir Richard had allowed the horse to take his own pace; the progress had been slow and silent; and when the long central aisle of the plantation made an abrupt curve at its conclusion Sir Richard found himself in old Taylor's orchard so suddenly that he had to dismount in a hurry to save his silk hat from being knocked off by the boughs of the apple trees. As his foot touched the ground, he saw in a sun-flecked space about eighty yards from where he was standing two figures disengage from a close embrace. Sir Richard recognized from the color of her auburn hair old Taylor's granddaughter, Elizabeth, and he was on the verge of a smile for youth and love in the summer time when he perceived that the man was his own son, Edward. He raised his riding-crop with a gesture of rage, while the lovers as if even a moment's separation were bitter as death clung together in a fresh embrace, standing heedless of all except their love, heedless of the young apples that fell from time to time from every tree, heedless of the noise Sir Richard's horse made in cropping the tender grass, heedless of Sir Richard's foot stamped upon the ground in anger, nor even looking round when he jerked his horse's bridle, remounted, and galloped back the way he had come down the long central aisle between the larches.