For three weeks, Melicent came down to the cottage on Tuesday and stayed till Friday. The first twice Brenda had accompanied her; but Pater grumbled, and the third time she came alone.
She was growing bold. Brooke's behaviour never varied. He was courteous and easy, but never confidential. He would come down the lane with his dogs, whistling, and lean over the gate among the lilacs until Melicent appeared from the cottage door, and they went on to Lone Ash together. His first greeting always was:
"How are you? Good news of Burmester, I hope?"
He was in great social request, and dined out most nights, often hurrying away from the absorbing spectacle of the rising walls of his home to lunch with some neighbouring magnate.
During the third week, except for their morning chat together, she scarcely saw him at all until Friday afternoon.
The week had been wet and cold, and she had been tramping about in a mackintosh and gaiters; but to-day was brilliantly fine, and she was lunching al fresco, up at the works, being immensely interested in some fresh boring operations then in progress in connection with her beloved fish-pond. She was sitting upon a pile of dry planks, making a dessert of almonds and raisins, and deep in a book, when she saw the Captain drive up. He seldom brought the motor up to the works. He had his own cart now, and a fast cob; and a trim young groom to look after them.
He sprang out, came up to where she sat, and began asking eager questions about the boring. They talked shop for several minutes, he sitting among the planks a little below her perch, bare-headed, and with his gaze upon the long foundation-lines.
Then a short silence fell, while the exhilarating May air sang about them. Looking straight before him, he said unconcernedly:
"Came to see if you cared for a drive this afternoon. It's a jolly day, and I've got to go to Arnstock. Care to come?"
She hesitated. Why not? She had evicted Mrs. Grundy long ago, and on what other grounds could she refuse? Yet something within said, "Don't," so loudly as to drown the voice of calm reason.