’But I won’t have you troubled and worried, when I’m not there to protect you!’ cried Sarratt, fiercely.  ‘You could easily find a friend.’

But Nelly shook her head.

’Oh, no.  That wouldn’t do.  Bridget and I always get on, George.  We never quarrelled—­except when I stuck to marrying you.  Generally—­I always give in.  It doesn’t matter.  It answers perfectly.’

She spoke with a kind of languid softness which puzzled him.

‘But now you can’t always give in, dearest!  You belong to me!’ And his grasp tightened on the hand he held.

‘I can give in enough—­to keep the peace,’ said Nelly slowly.  ’And if you weren’t here, it wouldn’t be natural that I shouldn’t live with Bridget.  I’m used to her.  Only I want to make you understand her, darling.  She’s not a bit like—­well, like the people you admire, and its no good expecting her to be.’

‘I shall talk to her before I go!’ he said, half laughing, half resolved.

Nelly looked alarmed.

’No—­please don’t!  She always gets the better of people who scold her.  Or if you were to get the better, then she’d visit it on me.  And now don’t let’s talk of her any more!  What were we saying?  Oh, I know—­what I was to do.  Let’s sit down again,—­there’s a rock, made for us.’

And on a natural seat under a sheltering rock canopied and hung with fern, the two rested once more, wrapped in one cloak, close beside the water, which was quiet again, and crossed by the magical lights and splendid shadows of the dying sunset.  Nelly had been full of plans when they sat down, but the nearness of the man she loved, his arm round her, his life beating as it were in one pulse with hers, intoxicated, and for a time silenced her.  She had taken off her hat, and she lay quietly against him in the warm shelter of the cloak.  He thought presently she was asleep.  How small and dear she was!  He bent over her, watching as closely as the now dim light allowed, the dark eyelashes lying on her cheek, her closed mouth, and soft breathing.  His very own!—­the thought was ecstasy—­he forgot the war, and the few days left him.

But this very intensity of brooding love in which he held her, made her restless after a little.  She sat up, and smiled at him—­

‘We must go home!—­Yes, we must.  But look!—­there is a boat!’

And only a few yards from them, emerging from the shadows, they saw a boat rocking gently at anchor beside a tiny landing-stage.  Nelly sprang to her feet.

‘George!—­suppose you were just to row us out—­there—­into the light!’

But when they came to the boat they found it pad-locked to a post in the little pier.

‘Ah, well, never mind,’ said Nelly—­’I’m sure that man won’t forget?’

‘That man who spoke to us?  Who was he?’

’Oh, I found out from Bridget, and Mrs. Weston.  He’s Sir William Farrell, a great swell, tremendously rich.  He has a big place somewhere, out beyond Keswick, beyond Bassenthwaite.  You saw he had a stiff knee?’