lady had come into sight. Mrs. Beever reassured him, but he was on his feet and he stood before her. "This then is their first meeting?"
"Dear, no! they've met in London. He often goes up."
"How often?"
"Oh, irregularly. Sometimes twice a month."
"And he sees her every time?"
Mrs. Beever considered. "Every time? I should think—hardly."
"Then every other?"
"I haven't the least idea."
Dennis looked round the garden. "You say you're convinced that, in the face of his promise, he has no particular interest in her. You mean, however, of course, but to the extent of marriage."
"I mean," said Mrs. Beever, "to the extent of anything at all." She also rose; she brought out her whole story. "He's in love with another person."
"Ah," Dennis murmured, "that's none of my business!" He nevertheless closed his eyes an instant with the cool balm of it. "But it makes a lot of difference."
She laid a kind hand on his arm. "Such a lot, I
