It's this way...." Avice Harborough listened in absolute silence as Brereton told her his carefully arranged story.

They walked slowly across the moor as he told it; now dipping into a valley, now rising above the ridge of a low hill; sometimes pausing altogether as he impressed some particular point upon her.

In the moonlight he could see that she was listening eagerly and intently, but she never interrupted him and never asked a question.

And at last, just as they came in sight of a light that burned in the window of a little moorland cottage, snugly planted in a hollow beneath the ridge which they were then traversing, he brought his story to an end and turned inquiringly to her.
"There!" he said.

"That's all.