The guns were silent when they came to the wood, which rolled down the hillside below the road.  Here and there a white birch trunk and a yellow patch of oak leaves shone among the dark firs; the beech hedge was covered by withered brown foliage.  A belt of grass ran between the wood and road and Grace took the little path along its edge.  Her feet made no noise and her tweed dress harmonized with the subdued coloring of dead leaves and trunks.  The light was not good and she thought she would not be visible a short distance off; besides the sportsmen might be at the other side of the wood.  She hoped they were, since she vaguely perceived that if Osborn saw her it would force a crisis she was not yet ready to meet.  Then her thoughts were disturbed, for somebody in the wood shouted:  “Mark cock flying low to right!”

A gunshot rang out close by and a small brown bird, skimming the top of the hedge, fluttered awkwardly across the road.  Next moment dry twigs rustled and a young man leaped on to the grass with a smoking gun in his hand.  As he threw it to his shoulder, Kit ran forward and struck the barrel.  There was a flash and while the echoes of the report rolled across the wood a little puff of smoke floated about the men.  Grace stood still, trembling, for she knew she had run some risk of being shot.

“Why don’t you look before you shoot?” Kit shouted in a strange, hoarse voice.  “You’ve no business to use a gun on a public road.  It’s lucky I was quick.”

“That is so; my fault!” gasped the other, who took off his cap as he turned to Grace.  “Very sorry, Miss Osborn; didn’t see you.  Wanted to get the woodcock.  Hope you’re not startled much.”

Grace forced a smile.  She had physical courage and was shaken rather by what she saw in Kit’s face than the risk she had run.  Kit looked strangely white and strained.  He had obviously got a bad shock, but she thought he would not have looked like that had he saved anybody else from the other’s gun.

“My dress is hard to see against the trees.  You really needn’t be disturbed,” she said.

The young man renewed his confused apologies, and when he pushed through the hedge and they went on again Grace looked at Kit.  He had not got his color back, his lips were set and his gaze was fixed.  The shock had broken his control and brought her enlightenment.  He loved her, but she needed time and quietness to grapple with the situation.  Her heart beat and her nerves tingled; she could not see the line she ought to take.  Yet he must be thanked.

“You were very quick,” she said as calmly as possible although she was conscious of a curious pride in him.  “Somehow I knew if there was need for quickness you would act like that.  I believe I was stupid enough to stand still until you jumped.  Well, of course, you know I thank you—­”

She stopped, for Kit, who turned his head for a moment turned it back and looked straight in front.  He durst not trust himself to speak, and they went on silently.