He went on:  “My idea is to find a place, not too far from here, that I can buy; and my plan is to go about and look for it now.  That’s why I’ve hired a motor for a month.  Perhaps you’d lend me Timmy, and, if it wouldn’t be improper, one of the girls, now and again?  We might go round and look about a bit.”

And then he walked across to where she was standing, and put his hand on her arm, “How about you?” he asked, “why shouldn’t I take you and Timmy a little jaunt just for a week or so—­that would be rather fun, eh?”

She smiled and shook her head.

He took a step back.  “Look here, Janet—­do try and forgive me—­I’m a more sensible chap than I was, honest Injun!”

“I’m beginning to think you are,” she cried, and then they both burst out laughing.

He lingered a moment.  He was longing, longing intensely, to ask her certain questions.  He wanted to know about Betty—­what sort of a life Betty had made for herself.  He still, in an odd way, felt responsible for Betty—­which was clearly absurd.

And then Janet Tosswill said something that surprised him very much.  “I think you’d better go round and see some of the people in the village to-day.  I was rather sorry you went off straight to The Trellis House last evening.  You know how folks talked, even in the old days, in Beechfield?”

He looked uneasy—­taken aback, and she felt, if a little ashamed, glad that she had made that “fishing” remark.

There was a pause, and then he said with a touch of formality:  “Look here, Janet?  I’d like you to know that though I’ve become quite fond of Mrs. Crofton, I’m only fond—­nothing more, you understand?  Perhaps I’ll make my meaning clearer when I tell you that I was the only man in Egypt who knew her who wasn’t in love with her.”

He saw her face change and, rather piqued, he asked:  “Did you think I was?”

“I thought that you and she were great friends—­”

“Well, so we are in a way.  I saw a great deal of her in London.”

“And you went straight off to see her the moment you arrived here.”

“Well, perhaps I was foolish to do that.”

What an odd admission to make.  He certainly had changed amazingly in the last nine years!

Then it was Janet who surprised him:  “Don’t make any mistake,” she said quickly.  “There’s no reason in the world why you shouldn’t marry Mrs. Crofton—­after a decent interval has elapsed.  All I meant to say—­and I’d rather say it right out now—­is that as most people know that her husband hasn’t been dead more than a few weeks, you ought to be rather careful, all the more careful if—­if your friendship should come to anything, Godfrey.”

“But it won’t!” he exclaimed, with a touch of the old heat, “indeed it won’t, Janet.  To tell you the truth, I don’t think I shall ever marry.”

“I certainly shouldn’t if I were a rich bachelor,” she said laughing; and yet somehow what he had just said hurt her.