A few days after my discovery of the cigarro picture, Dorothy and I were out on the terrace together.

Frequently when she was with me she would try to lead the conversation to the topic which I well knew was in her mind, if not in her heart, at all times.

She would speak of our first meeting at The Peacock, and would use every artifice to induce me to bring up the subject which she was eager to discuss, but I always failed her.

On the day mentioned when we were together on the terrace, after repeated failures to induce me to speak upon the desired topic, she said, "I suppose you never meet--meet--him when you ride out ?" "Whom, Dorothy ?" I asked.
"The gentleman with the cigarro," she responded, laughing nervously.
"No," I answered, "I know nothing of him." The subject was dropped.
At another time she said, "He was in the village--Overhaddon--yesterday." Then I knew who "him" was.
"How do you know ?" I asked.
"Jennie Faxton, the farrier's daughter, told me.

She often comes to the Hall to serve me.