The blush deepened. Had it been light enough to see her face Mr Musgrave must have observed how shy she looked at his question. Since it was impossible to explain that those visits, once so light-heartedly made to Diogenes in Mr Musgrave's stable-yard, had become an embarrassment for reasons too subtle to analyse, she remained silent, in her self-conscious agitation playing with a rose in her belt with nervous, inconsequent fingers. "I believe," Mr Musgrave continued, "that Diogenes has felt neglected." "He is forgiving," she answered. "He came to find me." John Musgrave looked at her steadily. "Do you think it is altogether kind--to Diogenes," he asked, "to stay away so long? Don't you think that perhaps he misses you--badly?" Peggy smiled faintly. "I think it is better he should forget," she replied. "It isn't always possible to forget," he returned slowly. "I am so sure he will never forget that I am glad our secret is exposed. I am going to return you your pet, Miss Annersley." Peggy turned to him quickly in protest, and put out a small hand and laid it on his sleeve. "No," she cried, "no. You have more right to him than anyone. You are fond of him too. You must keep him. I _want_ you to keep him." John Musgrave looked at the hand on his sleeve. He had seen it there once before, and the sight of it had caused him embarrassment. It did not cause him embarrassment now; he enjoyed the feel of the slight pressure on his arm. Suddenly, without pausing to consider, he put his own hand over it, and kept it there. "I want you to have him, and I want to keep him too," he said. "How are we going to get over that?" Peggy laughed nervously. "I don't know," she replied. "I don't see how that can be." "I hoped you would see," he returned gravely, and halted and imprisoned her other hand, and stood facing her. "There is a way, if only I wasn't so old and dull for your bright youth." He released her hands gently. "I suppose you are right, and it isn't possible." "You don't appear old or dull to me," she said softly. "I--didn't mean that." He went closer to her and remained gazing earnestly into the downcast face, his own tense features and motionless pose not more still than the girl's, as she waited quietly in the silent dusk with a heart which thumped so violently that it seemed to her he must hear its rapid beat. "It appears to me preposterous," he said, in a voice which held a ring of wonder in its tones, "that I, so much older than you, so unsuited in every sense, should find the courage to tell you how greatly I love you. It is scarcely to be expected that you can care for me sufficiently to allow me any hope... And yet... Miss Annersley, am I too presumptuous?" "No," Peggy whispered. She slipped a hand shyly into his and laughed softly. "I think you have discovered the best way of settling the ownership of our dog," she said. "I am not thinking of the dog," he answered, bending over her.