To Sam she appeared a miracle of coolness and warmth; and as yet no word was spoken.
At length, and not until they had passed the Dearloves' cottage, she asked-- "Why were you late ?" "Was I missed ?" "Of course.

You younger men of Troy seem strangely blind to your duties--and your chances." The last three words came as if by after-thought; Sam looked up quickly.
"Chances?
You said 'chances,' I believe ?" "I did.

Was there not Miss Saunders, for instance ?" Sam's lip curled.
"Miss Saunders is not a chance; she is a certainty.

Did she, for instance, announce that the beauty of the day made her sad--that even amid the wealth of summer something inside her whispered 'Autumn' ?" "She did." "She always does; I have never picnicked with Miss Saunders but something inside her whispered 'Autumn'!" "A small bore," suggested Mrs.Goodwyn-Sandys, "that never misses fire." Sam tittered and resumed-- "If it comes to duties, your husband sets the example; he hasn't moved from the club window to-day." "Oh!" she exclaimed shortly, "I never asked you to imitate my husband." Sam ceased rowing and looked up; he was familiar with the tone, but had never heard it so emphasised before.
"Look here," he said; "something's wrong, that's plain.

It's a rude question, but--does he neglect you ?" She laughed with some bitterness, and perhaps with a touch of self-contempt.
"You are right; it is a rude question: but--he does not." There was a moment's silence, and then she added-- "So it's useless, is it not, to wish that he would ?" The blood about Sam's heart stood still.