“This is really delightful,” murmured Sylvia, when the table had been cleared.  “I like the quietness of the country when it comes as a contrast, after, for example, such an afternoon as we have spent.”

“Then you’re not sorry you came?”

“Sorry?  You wouldn’t suggest it, if you knew how dull my days often are.  But I mustn’t be doleful.  You may smoke, if you like.”

Bland did not particularly wish to smoke, but he lighted a cigarette.  It seemed to banish formality, to place them on more familiar terms.

“What is the matter with the car?” Sylvia asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.  It can’t be got along without something the man has gone back for.”

“They do stop sometimes.  Is this one in the habit of doing so?”

“I can’t say, as it isn’t mine.  Why do you ask?”

“Oh!” said Sylvia, “I had my suspicions.  The man didn’t seem in the least astonished or annoyed, for one thing.  Then it broke down in such a convenient place.”

Bland laughed; her boldness appealed to him.

“Well,” he declared, “I’m perfectly innocent; though I can’t pretend I’m sorry.”

“You felt you had to say that.”

“No,” he declared, with a direct glance; “I meant it.”

Sylvia leaned back in her chair and glanced appreciatively at the moor.

“After all,” she said, “it’s remarkably pretty here, and a change is nice.  I’ll confess that I find Susan’s friends a little boring.”

The implication was that she preferred Bland’s society, and he was gratified.

“That struck me some time ago,” he rejoined.  “I wonder if you can guess why I thought it worth while to put up with them?”

Sylvia smiled as she looked at him.  She liked the man; she thought that he had a good deal she valued to offer her; but as yet she desired only his captivation.  She must not allow him to go too far.

“You might have had a number of motives,” she said carelessly.  “I don’t feel much curiosity about them.”

Bland bore the rebuff good-humoredly.  Patience was one of his strong points, and since his conversation with Ethel West on the terrace he had made up his mind.  In arriving at a decision, the man was honest and ready to make some sacrifice.  He had been strongly impressed by Sylvia on their first meeting, but he had realized that it would be a mistake to marry her unless she had some means.  Hitherto he had found it difficult to meet his expenses, which were large.  He did not believe now that Sylvia was rich, and he had seen enough of her to suspect that she was extravagant, but this did not deter him.  She had undoubtedly some possessions, and he was prepared to retrench and deny himself a number of costly pleasures.  Indeed, he had once or twice thought of leaving the army.

“Then I won’t force an explanation on you,” he said, and lighting another cigarette, lazily watched her and tried to analyze her charm.