She leaned forward after a moment and pulled Columbus to her side; fondling his pricked ears reassuringly.
"It was on Sunday," said Fielding. "My wife saw you in church. She took rather a fancy to you. I hope you don't object?"
"Why should I?" said Juliet.
"Exactly. Why should you? Well, after Green's introduction, when you had gone, I asked him if he knew anything about you. He said he had only made your acquaintance the day before, that you had told him that you had held the post of companion to someone, he didn't say who. And I wondered if possibly you might feel inclined to see how you got on with my wife in that capacity. She is not strong. She wants a companion."
Juliet's grey eyes gazed steadily before her as she listened. The evening light shone on her brown head, showing streaks of gold here and there. Her attitude was one of grave attention.
As he ended, she turned towards him, still caressing the dog at her feet.
"Wouldn't it be better," she said, "if Mrs. Fielding knew me before offering me such a post?"
The squire smiled at her abruptly. "No, I don't think so. It wouldn't be worth while unless you mean to consider it."
"Is that her point of view?" asked Juliet.
"No; it's mine. If she gets to know you and sets her heart on having you, and then you go and disappoint her—I shall be the sufferer," explained Fielding, with another cut at the grass in front of him.