Later, when a couple of whist-tables had been established, and the brilliantly-lighted room had grown hot, these two sat together at one of the open windows, looking out at the moonlit lawn; one of them supremely happy, and yet with a kind of undefined sense that this supreme happiness was a dangerous thing--a thing that it would be wise to pluck out of his heart, and have done with.
"My holiday is very nearly over, Miss Nowell," Gilbert Fenton said by and by.

"I shall have to go back to London and the old commercial life, the letter-writing and interview-giving, and all that kind of thing." "Your sister said you were very fond of the counting-house, Mr.Fenton," she answered lightly.

"I daresay, if you would only confess the truth, you are heartily tired of the country, and will be delighted to resume your business life." "I should never be tired of Lidford." "Indeed! and yet it is generally considered such a dull place." "It has not been so to me.

It will always be a shining spot in my memory, different and distinct from all other places." She looked up at him, wondering a little at his earnest tone, and their eyes met--his full of tenderness, hers only shy and surprised.

It was not then that the words he had to speak could be spoken, and he let the conversation drift into a general discussion of the merits of town or country life.