“Oh, I don’t want any risk.”

“An’ p’raps the risk, after all, would be covered by the security I’d offer you.  That’d be for your lawyers to decide; it’s not for me to urge the safety.”

“Will, what is it?”

“I hesitate for this purpose.  I want to lead you up to it, so that you shouldn’t turn against the proposal without yourself or your representatives giving it consideration.”

“Will, I wish you’d tell me—­I can’t bear suspense.”

“Then here’s the first question.  If satisfied of the security, would you lend out the money on mortgage with a person who has the chance of setting up himself in an old-established business?”

“What business?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute.  Take the person first.  You haven’t asked about him.  In a sense, his character—­honesty and straight ways—­is a part of the security.  He is somebody you’ve known for a many years.”

“Who is it?”

“Myself.”

“Will?  What on earth do you mean?”

“Mavis, it’s like this—­There, bide a bit.”

They had been sitting in the dusk after their high tea; and now Mary brought a lighted lamp into the room, and put it on the table between them.

“All right, my girl.  Never mind clearing away till I call for you.”

He waited until Mary had gone out of the room, and then went on talking.  His face with the lamp-light full upon it looked very firm and serious, and his manner while he explained all these new ideas was strangely unemotional.  He spoke not in the style of a husband to a wife, but of a business man proposing a partnership to another man.

“It seems to me, viewing it all round, a wonderful good chance.  An opening that isn’t likely to come in one’s way twice.  Mr. Bates’ son has bin and got himself into such a mess over a horse-racing transaction that he’s had to make a bolt of it.  I can’t tell you the facts, because I don’t rightly know them; but it’s bad—­something to do with checks that’ll put him to hidin’ for a long day, if he doesn’t want to answer for it in a court o’ law.  Well, then, the old gentleman being worn out with private care, wishful to retire, and seeing a common cheat and waster in the one who ought by nature to succeed him, has offered me to take over the farm, the trade, an’ the whole bag of tricks.”

“But, surely to goodness, Will, you don’t think of giving up the post office?”

“Yes, I do.  I think of that, in any case.”

“But you love the work.”

“Used to, Mavis.”

“Don’t you now?”

“No.  Mavis, it’s like this.”  He had raised a hand to shade his eyes, as if the lamplight hurt them, and she could no longer see the expression of his face.  But she observed a sudden change in his manner.  He spoke now much in the same confidential tone that he had always employed in the old time when telling her of his most intimate affairs—­in the happy time when he brought all his little troubles to her, and flattered her by saying that she never failed to make them easy to bear.  “So far’s the P.O. is concerned, all the heart has gone out of me.  The events through which I’ve passed have altered my view of the entire affair.  Where all seemed leading me on and on, and up and up, I see nothing before me now.”