The reins fell on the horse's neck as he climbed East Hill, and Gifford turned, with one hand on the bay's broad flanks, to look down at Ashurst.

The valley was still full of mist, that flushed and trembled into gold before it disappeared at the touch of the sun.

There was a flutter of birds' wings in the bushes along the road, and the light wind made the birch leaves flicker and dance; but there was hardly another sound, for his horse walked deliberately in the grass beside the road, until suddenly a dog barked.

Gifford drew his rein sharply.

"That was Max!" he said, and looked about for him, even rising a little in his stirrups, "How fond she is of the old fellow!" he thought.
In another moment the dog ran across the road, his red coat marked with dew; then the bushes were pushed aside, and his mistress followed him.
"Why, Gifford!" she said.
"Why, Lois!" he exclaimed with her, and then they looked at each other.
The young man threw away his cigarette, and, springing from his horse, slipped the reins over his arm, and walked beside her.
"Are you going away ?" Lois asked.