Errington looked slightly disappointed at her lack of fervour, and to make up for it commenced to vehemently declare that he did not want to see anyone, that he could live for the next century with her alone, she was all the world to him, the one thing he lived for, etc., etc. in fact gave glib utterance to all the fond rhapsodies which constantly pour from the mouths of adoring lovers and newly-married men. Kneeling beside her, his face glowing with passionate feeling and his blue eyes fixed adoringly on the face of his divinity, Guy Errington looked gallant, handsome and fervid enough to have satisfied the most exacting woman. Yet, strange to say, for some inexplicable reason, this wife of three months appeared slightly bored by his erotic enthusiasm. "You are the pearl of husbands, my dear Guy," she observed idly when he ceased his protestations, "but confess now, on your knees as you are, that you feel a trifle weary of this perfect bliss--this society of two--and long for your dogs, your horses, and your coverts." At this accurate divination of his real feelings, Errington looked somewhat disconcerted, for despite the ardour of his protestations he did feel slightly weary of this monotonous tranquillity, and in his secret heart longed for the things she mentioned. "Well, you know I'm not a bit romantic," he said apologetically, as if he were confessing to some crime, "and I am a little tired of churches and pictures. Besides, I am anxious for you to see the Hall, and there's such a lot of things to be looked after, and--and----" "And this is somewhere about the twelfth of August," said Lady Errington slily, cutting short his excuses, whereat he laughed in a somewhat embarrassed manner. "Ah, you've found me out," he observed with a smile. "Well, yes, dear, I confess it is true, I was thinking about the coverts--it ought to be a good year for the birds. Besides there are the stables, you know. I am going to get a new hunter for next season. Baffles tells me there's a good one to be picked up--belongs to some Major Griff or Groff--don't know the name--and I've got my eye--Good gracious, Alizon," he added, breaking off--"What is the matter?" "Nothing, nothing!" she replied, trying to smile although she looked singularly disturbed, "only that name you mentioned, Major Griff." "Yes, what about him?" "Nothing at all--only he was--I believe, a friend of my father's." "Oh! don't trouble your head about those things, dear, all that sort of thing is past and done with," said Guy fondly, who knew what she had suffered at the hands of her father, "your life will be all sunshine--if I can make it so." Alizon bent forward and kissed him tenderly on the forehead.