"Blye," said Anthony, glancing down.
"Yes," said Susanna. "I had no idea we had come so far."
"I 'm afraid we have come too far. I 'm afraid I have allowed you to tire yourself," said he, with anxiety.
"Tired!" she protested. "Could one ever get tired walking in such exhilarating air as this?"
And, indeed, her colour, her bright eyes, her animated carriage, put to scorn his apprehension.
"But we must turn back, all the same," she added, "or—we shall not be home for tea."
She spoke in bated accents, and made a grave face, as if to miss tea were to miss a function sacrosanct.
Anthony laughed, and they turned back.
"It's a bit of a coincidence," he remarked presently, "that, coming from Sampaolo, you should just have chanced to take a house at Craford."
"Nothing could be simpler," said Susanna. "I wished to pass the summer in England, and was looking for a country house. The agent in London mentioned Craford New Manor, among a number of others, and Miss Sandus and I came down to see it. The prospect of finding myself the tenant of my exiled sovereign rather appealed to me—appealed to my sense of romance and to my sense of humour. And then,"—her eyes brightened,—"when we met your perfectly irresistible Mr. Willes, hesitation was impossible. He kept breaking out with little snatches of song, while he was showing us over the place; and afterwards he invited us to his music-room, (or I think he called it his business-room), and sang properly to us—his own compositions. He even permitted me to play some of his accompaniments."