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"Then you came," she said, "and before long I had another feeling to fight against. At first I thought it couldn't be true that I loved you it would die down. I think I was frightened at the feeling; I didn't know it hurt so to love any one." Broomhurst stirred a little. "Go on," he said, tersely.

She paused, and Broomhurst rose and began to pace the little hillside path at the edge of which they were seated. Presently he came back to her. "Kathleen, let me take care of you," he implored, stooping toward her. "We have only ourselves to consider in this matter. Will you come to me at once?" She shook her head sadly. Broomhurst set his teeth, and the lines round his mouth deepened.

They did not speak again till the trees round the stone well were reached. Broomhurst arranged their seats comfortably beside it. "Are we going to read or talk?" he asked, looking up at her from his lower place. "Well, we generally talk most when we arrange to read; so shall we agree to talk to-day for a change, by way of getting some reading done?" she rejoined, smiling. "You begin."

She hated herself for knowing that there would be a "my dear," probably a "somehow," in his reply, and despised herself for the sense of irritated impatience she felt by anticipation, even before the words were uttered. There was a moment's hesitating silence, broken by the sound of quick, firm footsteps without. Broomhurst paused at the entrance, and looked into the tent.

Broomhurst seemed in no hurry to avail himself of the permission; he was apparently engrossed in watching the flecks of sunshine on Mrs. Drayton's white dress. The whirring of insects, and the creaking of a Persian wheel somewhere in the neighbourhood, filtered through the hot silence. Mrs. Drayton laughed after a few minutes; there was a touch of embarrassment in the sound.

Broomhurst saw that she was crying; her tears fell fast on to her hands, that were clasped in her lap. Her face, he noticed, was thin and drawn. Very gently he put his arm round her shoulder and drew her nearer to him. She made no resistance; it seemed that she did not notice the movement; and his arm dropped at his side. "You asked me why I had come.

It depends on one's self entirely." "Given the right Adam and Eve, the desert blossoms like the rose, in fact," Broomhurst answered, lightly, with a smiling glance inclusive of husband and wife; "you two don't feel as though you'd been driven out of Paradise, evidently." Drayton raised his eyes from his plate with a smile of total incomprehension.

Broomhurst inquired, smiling. "Yes, now that you mention it, I think that must be why I am waiting," she replied, slowly. "And it doesn't come even in the Garden of Eden? Surely the serpent, pessimism, hasn't been insolent enough to draw you into conversation with him?" he said, lightly. "There has been no one to converse with at all when John is away, I mean.

"The lady was out, but the gentleman would likely find her if he went to the cliffs down by the bay, or thereabouts," her landlady explained; and, obeying her directions, Broomhurst presently emerged from the shady woodland path on to the hillside overhanging the sea.

"Been looking after that fellow cleanin' my gun, my dear," John explained, shambling toward the deck-chair. Later Broomhurst stood at his own tent door. He looked up at the star-sown sky, and the heavy silence seemed to press upon him like an actual, physical burden. He took his cigar from between his lips presently, and looked at the glowing end reflectively before throwing it away.