“On the whole,” she said, “things have not gone very well.  We have had wet summers and heavy snow in spring.  The flocks are poor and rents have come down.  Bell has gone; he quarreled with Hayes about some new machinery for the mill.  All is much the same at Tarnside, though my father is not so active.  Gerald left Woolwich—­perhaps you knew—­and is in a London bank.”

Kit hid his surprise.  Gerald was not the stuff of which good bank clerks are made, although Osborn’s influence with the local manager had, no doubt, got him the post.  Kit imagined the lad had been forced to leave Woolwich, but money must be scarce at Tarnside, since he had gone into business.  This threw some light on the hint of weariness he had noted about Grace.  If fresh economy was needful, she and Mrs. Osborn must carry the load.

“Hayes is still your agent.  I met him yesterday and he gave me a sour nod,” Kit remarked.

“Yes,” said Grace, and added quietly:  “I sometimes wish he were not!”

“Well, I never liked the man.  All the same, he’s a very good agent, from the landlord’s point of view, and your father’s interests ought to be safe with him.”

“I suppose so,” Grace agreed, but her look was doubtful, and they reached the Ashness lonning a few minutes later.  When Kit stopped she gave him her hand.  “I hear you are going to make a number of improvements, and wish you good luck!”

Kit went up the lonning and sitting down in the porch lighted his pipe.  Grace had not forgotten; she had given him his real welcome home and he thrilled as he thought about her quiet friendliness.  Perhaps the meeting was awkward for her, but she had struck the right note, with the dignified simplicity he had expected.  It said something for her pluck that she had met him as if the interview at Ashness, when Osborn had driven him away, had never taken place.  All this was comforting, but Kit was vaguely disturbed on her account.

He had noted a hint of anxiety and she had implied that things were not going well for the Osborns.  He meant to marry Grace; his longing for her was keener than he had felt it yet, but it was not altogether selfish.  She must be removed from surroundings in which she could not thrive.  Tarnside, with its rash extravagance, pretense, and stern private economy, was not the place for her.  But he felt he must be patient and cautious; there were numerous obstacles in his way.

In the meantime, Grace met Thorn farther along the road and tried to hide her annoyance as he advanced.  Perhaps it was the contrast between him and Kit, whose thin, brown face had a half-ascetic look, for Alan was fat and getting coarse.  Grace had noted this before, but not so plainly as she did now.  His manners were urbane and he belonged to her circle; to some extent, his code was hers and she had his prejudices and tastes.  All the same, she did not like him; for one thing, he was a type her father approved, a man of local importance and strictly local ideas, and Osborn had forced her into rebellion.  Alan managed the otter hounds well and knew much about farming, but he was satisfied with this.  Although he belonged to a smart London club, Grace imagined he only went there because he thought he ought.  Yet he was cunning and patient, and knowing why he bore with Osborn, she was sometimes afraid.