like a sickle curving into the moor. At the horn of the sickle a tall ash
tree in the wall of the Aldersons' farm. Where the road dipped they
turned.

He slouched slowly, his head hung forward, loosening the fold of flesh
about his jaw. His eyes blinked in the soft November sunshine. His
eyelids were tight as though they had been tied with string.

"Supposing I asked you to release me from our engagement?"

"For always?"

"Perhaps for always. Perhaps only for a short time. Till I've settled
something. Till I've found out something I want to know. Would you,
Mary?"

"Of course I would. Like a shot."

"And supposing--I never settled it?"

"That would be all right. I can go on being engaged to you; but you
needn't be engaged to me."

"You dear little thing.... I'm afraid, I'm afraid that wouldn't do."

"It would do beautifully. Unless you're really keeping something back
from me."

"I am keeping something back from you.... I've no right to worry you with
my unpleasant affairs. I was fairly well off when I asked you to marry