“I’m sure Miss Moore doesn’t want him!” she declared petulantly.

“I am afraid Miss Moore will have to put up with him nevertheless,” said Fielding, unperturbed.  “For he is coming.”

“You always do your best to spoil my pleasure,” Vera flung at him.

Juliet saw the squire’s mouth take an ominous downward curve, but to her relief he kept his temper in check.  He was driving the car himself which was an open one.  Somewhat grimly he turned to Juliet.  “I hope you have no objection to sharing the back-seat with Mr. Green?”

She felt her pulses give a swift leap at the question, but with a hasty effort she kept down her rising colour.  “Of course not!” she said.

He gave her a brief smile of approval.  “Then you will sit in front with me, Vera.  That is settled.  Let us have no more argument!”

“It’s too bad!” Vera declared stormily on the verge of indignant tears.

“My dear,” he said, “don’t be silly!  Has it never occurred to you that I may like to have my wife to myself occasionally?”

It evidently had not, for Vera gave him a look of sheer amazement and yielded the point as if she had no breath left for further discussion.

He settled her in her place, and tucked the rug around her with more than usual care.  As he finished, she leaned forward and touched his shoulder with a slightly uncertain smile.

He glanced up.  “All right?”

“Quite, thank you,” she said.

And Juliet in the back-seat drew a breath of relief.  The squire was becoming quite an adept at the game.

They shot down the avenue at a speed that brought them very rapidly in sight of the gates.  A figure was waiting there, and again Juliet was conscious of the hard beating of her heart.  Then she knew that the car was stopping, and looked forth with an impersonal smile of welcome.

He came forward, greeted the squire and Mrs. Fielding, and in a moment was getting in beside her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Moore!” he said.

She gave him her hand and felt his fingers close with a spring-like strength upon it, while his eyes laughed into hers.  Then the car was in motion again, and he dropped into the seat.

“By Jove, this is a treat!” he said.  “I had the greatest difficulty in the world to get away, made Ashcott take my place.  It isn’t a very important match, and he’s a better bowler than I am anyway.”

“Do you want any rug?” she said, still battling to keep back the overwhelming flush of gladness from her face.

He accepted her offer at once, and in a moment his hand had caught and imprisoned hers beneath its shelter.

She made a sharp movement to free herself, and the blush she had so valiantly resisted flamed over face and neck as she felt his hold tighten as sharply, and heard him laugh at her impotence.  But he went on talking as though nothing had happened, considerately covering her agitation, and to her relief neither Fielding nor his wife looked round till it had subsided.