"He never drinks anything but water when he's out shooting, but he wasn't likely to face Maud upon water, was he?"
"I tell you I don't know. Ask him yourself."
"Ask him myself? That's a good one. Ask him myself? Ha—ha—ha. Well, whatever he took, it did the trick, and she looks as proud as a cat with a tin tail,—but between you and me, Leo——"
"Oh, don't have any more 'between you and me's,' Val——" But the next moment Leo demanded inconsequently: "What is it you want to say? Say it."
"He's an uncommonly nice fellow, and all that,—but——"
"But—well, but——?" impatiently.
"I should have thought he was more your sort than Maud's, that's all."
"My sort!" She was white to the lips, and there was a sudden heaving of her bosom. "My—my sort?"
"I'll tell you what I mean. We had a long day together yesterday—no, it was the day before. There wasn't much doing, the birds were shy and scattered, and I took Foster into our church, as he seemed to want to see it. I told him I generally went to yours for the sake of the walk, but—anyhow he seemed to hanker after going inside, and it is an awfully nice, rum, little old place, you know; lots of people come to see it. Oh, they come from long distances. Foster was delighted; I couldn't tear him away. He poked and poked about, and at last he said to me: 'This is the sort of thing I've dreamed about. An English village church, with its old worn pillars and arches——' and he raved on a bit. I said I liked it too; of course I did; I had known it all my life, and he said 'Ah?' and was quite interested. And then—I don't know how it was—it just seemed as if we were in the thick of it all of a sudden—he was talking about his ideas of marriage and that. You never heard anything so queer! But it was very nice, you know. I didn't mind it a bit, only I thought to myself, 'Do you jolly well imagine you are going to catch old Maud going in with those highflown ideas? Because if you do, I don't.'"
"What ideas?" said Leo, in a strangled voice. She had a choking sensation in her throat.