"Yes, everybody knows that: but is he in love with her?"
"Herbert, I am sure you must be mistaken!" persists Beatrice, eagerly.
"Perhaps I am. Never mind, little woman," kissing her lightly; "I only said they looked happy. If you will take the trouble to remark them through the day, you will, perhaps, be struck by the same blissful aspect that I have noticed. If they are happy, it won't last long. Why should not one be glad to see other people enjoying themselves? Let them be happy whilst they can."
Herbert Pryme was right. Maurice and Vera wandering side by side along the broad gravel walks in the wintry gardens were happy—without so much as venturing to wonder what it was that made them so.
"I did not want to hunt to-day," Maurice is saying; "I thought I would stop at home and talk to you."
"That was kind of you," answers Vera, with a smile.
If she had known him better, she would have been more sensible of the compliment implied. To give up a day's hunting for a woman's sake is what very few keen sports-men have been known to do; the attraction must be great indeed.
"You will go out, of course, on Monday, the day the hounds meet here? I should like to see you on a horse."
"I shall at all events put on a habit and get up on the mare John has given me. But I know very little of English hunting; I have only ridden in Italy. We used to go out in winter over the Campagna—that is very different to England."
"You must look very well in a habit." He turned to look at her as he spoke. There was no reticence in his undisguised admiration of her.