His keen sensitiveness told him this instinctively, and, indeed, he had made a discovery that, though he did not admit it now, had staggered him.
He stood there at the open window chatting with her, but what he said he had no idea.

His one thought--the one question which now possessed him--was whether she still loved him, or whether the discovery he had made was the actual and painful truth.

Tall and good-looking, clean-shaven, and essentially easy-going, he stood before her with his dark eyes fixed upon her--eyes full of devotion, for was she not his idol?
She was telling him of a garden-party which her mother had arranged for the following Thursday, and pressing him to attend it.
"I'm afraid I may have to be in London that day, dearest," he responded.
"But if I may I'll come over to-morrow and play tennis.

Will you be at home in the afternoon ?" "No," she declared promptly, with a mischievous laugh, "I shan't.

I shall be in the glen by the first bridge at four o'clock, and shall wait for you there." "Very well, I'll be there," he laughed.