You're her steward, are you not?
How d'ye do ?" Moody, with h is eyes on the ground, answered silently by a bow.

Hardyman, perfectly indifferent whether Lady Lydiard's steward spoke or not, turned on his saddle and looked admiringly at Isabel.

"I begin to think I am a lucky man at last," he went on with a smile.

"I was jogging along to my farm, and despairing of ever seeing Miss Isabel again--and Miss Isabel herself meets me at the roadside! I wonder whether you are as glad to see me as I am to see you?
You won't tell me--eh?
May I ask you something else?
Are you staying in our neighborhood ?" There was no alternative before Isabel but to answer this last question.
Hardyman had met her out walking, and had no doubt drawn the inevitable inference--although he was too polite to say so in plain words.
"Yes, sir," she answered, shyly, "I am staying in this neighborhood." "And who is your relation ?" Hardyman proceeded, in his easy, matter-of-course way.

"Lady Lydiard told me, when I had the pleasure of meeting you at her house, that you had an aunt living in the country.
I have a good memory, Miss Isabel, for anything that I hear about You! It's your aunt, isn't it?
Yes?
I know everybody about hew.