May I walk with you ?' 'If you please not, Mr Owen.

I would rather not.' 'Are you happy?
just tell me this.' 'Very--very.

Miss Gwynne is so good.

I can only be happy.

Good-bye, Mr Owen.' 'Good-bye, dear Gladys,' said Owen, pressing her trembling hand that she held out to him, and opening the farm-yard gate for her to go out.
As Gladys hurried on with a light heart and light step, she little thought that those kind eyes which had looked so lovingly at her were clouded with the mists of jealousy in less than five minutes after she had left the farm.