"It is a short cut to Lostford." He had forgotten that an hour before he had announced that he seldom used that particular path.

It did not matter, for Fay had not noticed the contradiction any more than he did.

Fay was easy to get on with because she never compared what anyone said one day with what they said the next.

She never would feel the doubts, the perplexities that keener minds had had to fight against in dealing with him.
For the first time she looked at his receding figure with a sense of regret and loss.
Magdalen was in the house waiting to give her her tea, dear Magdalen who was so good, and so safe, such a comforter--_but who knew_.

Fay shrank back instinctively as she neared the house, and then crept upstairs to her own room, and had tea there.
* * * * * [Illustration: "FAY NOTICED FOR THE FIRST TIME HOW LIGHTLY WENTWORTH WALKED, HOW SQUARE HIS SHOULDERS WERE"] Wentworth rode home feeling younger that he had done for years.