They did not talk during the short remainder of their walk. At the gate of The Priory the old gentleman stopped and turned.
"Kiss me, Anthony," he said, "there's nobody about."
Anthony did so. It seemed quite natural somehow. He watched Mr. Mowbray pass up the flagged causeway to the door and then went back to his work.
Betty had been quite frank with him, or so he had thought.
"It's fortunate we didn't marry," she said. "What a muddle it would have ended in—or else a tragedy. Do you remember that talk we had one evening?"
"Yes," he answered. "You said that if you ever married it would be a man who would 'like' you—think of you as a friend, a comrade."
"I know," she laughed. "To be candid, I had you in my mind at the moment. I thought that you would always be so sane—the sort of husband one could rely upon never to kick over the traces. Curious how little we know one another."
"Would you really have been satisfied?" he asked, "when it came to the point. Would not you have demanded love as your right?"
"I don't think so," she answered, musing. "I
