In spite of her blue dress, in spite of the flush in her cheeks and the luminous softness in her eyes, the joy in her bosom fluttered on crippled wings.  Gay was kind, he was gentle, he was even solicitous on the rare occasions when she saw him; but somehow—­in some way, it was different from the ideal marriage of which she had dreamed.  If he was kind, he was also casual.  She had hoped once that love would fill her life, and now, to her despair, it looked as if it might be poured into a tea-cup.  She had imagined that it would move mountains, and the most ordinary detail of living was sufficient to thrust it out of sight.

When she reached the brook, she saw Gay coming slowly along the Haunt’s Walk, to the spring.  As he walked, he blew little clouds of smoke into the air, and she thought, as he approached her, that the smell of his cigar was unlike the cigar of any other man she knew—­that it possessed, in itself, a quality that was exciting and romantic.  This trait in his personality—­a disturbing suggestion of the atmosphere of a richer world—­had fascinated her from the beginning, and after eighteen months of repeated disappointments, it still held her, though she struggled now in its power like a hare in a trap.

“So you’re here!” he exclaimed as he reached her.  Then, after a swift glance over the fields, he drew her into the shelter of the trees, and holding his cigar in his left hand, kissed her lips.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against him, while the scent of tobacco intoxicated her with its train of happier associations.

“You’re looking all right, though your letters have been rather jumpy.  My dear girl, when you pounce on me like that you frighten me out of my wits.  You really mustn’t, you know.”

“O Jonathan!” she gasped, and clung to him.

“Why, I had to manufacture some excuse on the instant for coming down.  I couldn’t tell what foolishness you’d be capable of if I didn’t.”

His tone was half caressing, yet beneath it there was a serious annoyance, which killed the suffering joy in her heart.  She was slowly learning that it is not safe to remind the man of pleasure of his obligations, since he is attracted chiefly by his opportunities.

“The time was when you wanted to come just as much as I,” she said.

“Don’t I still?  Haven’t I proved it by telling a tremendous lie and rushing down here on the first train?  Come, now, kiss me like a good girl and look cheerful.  You’ve got to make up, you know, for all the trouble you’ve put me to.”

She kissed him obediently, yielding to his casual embraces with a docility that would have charmed him had his passion been in its beginning instead of its decline.

“You’re glad now you came, aren’t you?” she asked presently pleading to be reassured.

“Oh, yes, of course, I like it, but you mustn’t write to me that way again.”