"Do you? Well, I don't know many. The Reverend Stephen is enough for me.
I fight shy of all the rest."
"My dear, how very narrow of you!" said Avery.
He turned to her boyishly. "Don't tell me you want to be a female curate like the Whalley! I couldn't bear it!"
"I haven't the smallest leaning in that direction," Avery assured him.
"But at the same time, one of my greatest friends is about to enter the
Church, and I do want you to meet and like him."
A sudden silence followed her words. Piers resumed the peeling of his stick with minute attention. "I am sure to like him if you do," he remarked, after a moment.
She touched his arm lightly. "Thank you, dear. He is an Australian, and the very greatest-hearted man I ever met. He stood by me in a time of great trouble. I don't know what I should have done without him. I hope he won't feel hurt, but I haven't even told him of my marriage yet."
"We have been married just ten hours," observed Piers, still intent upon his task.
She laughed again. "Yes, but it is ten days since we became engaged, and I owe him a letter into the bargain. He wanted to arrange to meet me in town one day; but he is still too busy to fix a date. He is studying very hard."
"What's his name?" said Piers.
"Crowther—Edmund Crowther. He has been a farmer for years in Queensland." Avery, paused a moment. "It was he who broke the news to me of my husband's death," she said, in a low voice. "I told you about that, Piers."