“I have been more patient than most men,” Haddington was saying.

“You have no right to speak in that way,” Kate protested; “it’s—­it’s not respectful.”

“Kate, have we not got beyond respect?”

“I hope not,” said Sir Roderick to himself.

“I mean,” Haddington went on, “there is a point at which you must face realities.  Kate, do you love me?”

Ayre leant forward and peered through the bushes.

“I will not break my engagement.”

“That is no answer.”

“I can’t help it.  I have been taught—­”

“Oh, taught!  Kate, you know Lane; you know what he is.  You saw him with
Lady—­”

“You’re very unkind.”

“And for his sake you throw away what I offer?”

“Won’t you be patient?”

“Ah, you admit—­”

“No, I don’t!”

“But you can’t deny it.  Now you make me happy.”

The conversation here became so low in tone that Ayre, to his vast disgust, was unable to overhear it.  The next words that reached his ear came again from Haddington.

“Well, I will wait—­I will wait three months.  If nothing happens then, you will break it off?”

A gentle “Yes” floated up to the eavesdropper.

“Though why you want him to break it off rather than yourself, I don’t know.”

“He doesn’t appreciate her morality,” reflected Ayre, with a chuckle.

“Kate, we are promised to one another? secretly, if you like, but promised?”

“I’m afraid it’s very wrong.”

“Why, he deliberately insulted you!”

The tones again became inaudible; but after a pause there came a sound that made Ayre almost jump.

“By Jove!” he whispered in his excitement.  “Confound these trees!  Was it only her hand, or—­”

“Then I have your promise, dear?”

“Yes; in three months.  But I must go in.  Aunt will be angry.”

“You won’t let him win you over?”

“He has treated me badly; but I don’t want it said I jilted him.”

They had risen by now.

“You ask such a lot of me,” said Haddington.

“Ah!  I thought you said you loved me.  Can’t you wait three months?”

“I suppose I must.  But, Kate, you are sincere with me?  Tell me you love me.”

Again Ayre leant forward.  They had began to walk away, but now
Haddington stopped, and laying his hand on Kate’s arm, detained her. 
“Say you love me,” he said again.

“Yes, I love you!” said Kate, with commendable confusion, and they resumed their walk.

“What is her game?” Ayre asked himself.  “If she means to throw Eugene over, why doesn’t she do it right out?  I don’t believe she does.  She’s afraid he’ll throw her over.  And, by Jove! she fobbed that fool off again!  We’re no further forward than we were.  If he makes trouble about this she’ll deny the whole thing.  Miss Bernard is a lady of talent.  But—­no, can I?  Yes, I will.  Rather than let her win, I’ll step in.  I’ll go and see her to-morrow.  We shall neither of us be in a position to reproach the other.  But I’ll see what I can do.  But Haddington!  To think she should get round him again!”