himself and her that set them miles apart.

Diana was conscious of a fury of resentment against his calm readjustment
of the situation. He was the offender; it was for her to dictate the
terms of peace, and he had suddenly cut the ground from under her feet.
Her pride rose in arms. If he could so contemptuously sweep aside the
memory of the last ten minutes, careless whether his plea for forgiveness
were granted or no, she would show him that for her, too, the incident
was closed. But she would not forgive him--ever.

She opened her campaign at once.

"Surely we must be almost at the Rectory by now?" she began in politely
conventional tones.

A sudden gleam of wicked mirth flashed across his face.

"Has the time, then, seemed so long?" he demanded coolly.

Diana's lips trembled in the vain effort to repress a smile. The man was
impossible! It was also very difficult, she found, to remain righteously
angry with such an impossible person.

If he saw the smile, he gave no indication of it. Rubbing the window
with his hand he peered out.

"I think we are just turning in at the Rectory gates," he remarked
carelessly.

In another minute the motor had throbbed to a standstill and the