“Is that her point of view?” asked Juliet.

“No; it’s mine.  If she gets to know you and sets her heart on having you, and then you go and disappoint her—­I shall be the sufferer,” explained Fielding, with another cut at the grass in front of him.

It was Juliet’s turn to smile.  “But I can’t—­possibly—­decide until we have met, can I?” she said.

“Does that mean you’ll consider it?” asked the squire.

“I am considering it,” said Juliet.  “But please give me time!  For I have only just begun.”

“That’s fair,” he conceded.  “How long will it take you?”

She began to laugh.  There was something almost boyishly naive about him, notwithstanding his obvious bad temper.  “You haven’t told me any details yet,” she said.

“Oh, you mean money,” he said.  “I leave that to you.  You can name your own terms.”

“Thank you,” said Juliet again.  “That would naturally appeal to me very much.  But as a matter of fact, I was not referring to money at that moment.”

He gave her a keen look.  “I didn’t mean to offend you.  Are you offended?”

She met his eyes quite squarely.  “On second thoughts—­no!”

“Why second thoughts?” he demanded.

Her colour rose faintly.  “Because I think second thoughts are—­kinder.”

Fielding turned suddenly crimson.  “So I’m a cad and a bounder, am I?” he said furiously.

Juliet’s eyes contemplated him without a hint of dismay.  There was even behind their serenity the faint glint of a smile.  “I think that is putting it rather strongly,” she said.  “But I really don’t know you yet.  I am not in a position to judge—­even if I wished to do so.”

Fielding sat for a moment or two quite rigid, as if on the verge of springing to his feet and leaving her.  Then with amazing suddenness he broke into a laugh, and the tension was past.

“By Jove, I like you for that!” he said.  “You did it jolly well.  You’ve got pluck, and you know how to keep your temper.  You’ll have to forgive me, Miss Moore.  We’re going to be friends after this.”

There was something very winning about this overture, and Juliet was not proof against it.  He was evidently of those who consider that an apology condones any offence, and, though she was far from agreeing with him on this point, it was not in her to be churlish.

She smiled at him without speaking.

“Sure you’re not angry with me?” urged the Squire.

She nodded.  “Yes, quite sure.  Won’t you go on where you left off?”

“Where did I leave off?” He frowned.  “Oh yes, you asked for details.  Well, what do you want to know?  My wife always breakfasts in bed, so she wouldn’t want you before ten.  But you’d live with us of course.  I’d see that they made you comfortable.”

“If my duties did not begin before ten, there would be no need for that,” pointed out Juliet.

He looked at her in surprise.  “Of course you’d live with us!  You can’t want to stay here!”