"Who understands her about as thoroughly as you understand art."
"Oh, come!" he remonstrated. "Mordaunt is not quite such a fool as that! The little monkey ought to be happy enough—unless she tries to play fast and loose with him. Then, I grant you, there would be the devil to pay."
Hilda smiled. "I can't help feeling anxious about her. It has always been my fear that, when the glamour of first love is past, Trevor might misjudge her. She is so gay and bright that many people think her empty. I know my mother does for one."
"Your mother might," he conceded. "Trevor wouldn't—being a man of considerable insight. Tell you what, though, if you want to satisfy yourself on the score of Chris's happiness, we will get them to put us up for a night when we leave here for town three weeks hence. How will that suit you?"
"I should love it, of course," she said. "But wouldn't it be rather far out of our way?"
"I daresay the car won't mind," said Lord Percy.
They walked back to the house that a friend had lent for their three-months' honeymoon. It nestled in a hollow amongst trees, the long line of moors stretching above it. They were well out of the beaten track. Few tourists penetrated to their paradise. Near the house was a glade with a miniature waterfall that filled the place with music.
"That waterfall makes for laziness," Lord Percy was wont to declare, and many were the happy hours they had spent beside it.
They passed it by without lingering to-day, however, for both were feeling energetic. Briskly they crossed the little lawn before the house, and entered by a French window.
"Better secure some refreshments before we go on the tramp," suggested
Lord Percy. "I've got a thirst already. Hullo! What on earth—"