he had not. He had quietly, with a charmingly persuasive insistence,
broken through the conventions of custom, and had subsequently proved
himself as considerate and as thoughtful for her comfort as any actual
friend could have been. More than that, in those moments of tense
excitement, immediately after the collision had occurred, she could
have sworn that real feeling, genuine concern for her safety, had
vibrated in his voice.

And now, just as deliberately, just as composedly as he had begun the
acquaintance, so he had closed it.

Diana's cheeks burned with shame. She felt humiliated. Evidently he
had regarded her merely as some one with whom it might he agreeable to
idle away the tedium of a journey--but that was all. It was obviously
his intention that that should be the beginning and the end of it.

In a dream she crossed the road and, opening the gate that admitted to
the "church path," made her way home alone. She felt she must have a
few minutes to herself before she faced the Rector and Joan at the
Rectory mid-day dinner. Fortunately, they were both in ignorance of
this amazing, stupefying fact that her fellow-traveller--the "gallant
rescuer" about whom Pobs had so joyously chaffed her--had signified in
the most unmistakable fashion that he wanted nothing more to do with
her, and by the time the dinner-bell sounded, Diana had herself well in
hand--so well that she was even able to ask in tones of quite casual
interest if any one knew who were the strangers in church that morning?

"Yes, Mowbray told me," replied the Rector. "They are the new people
who have taken Red Gables--that pretty little place on the Woodway
Road. The girl is Adrienne de Gervais, the actress, and the elderly