cost her sickness of heart.  In practice she obeyed her parents’ injunctions, for she herself was hitherto only too well aware of the fate which might come upon her in consequence of the most trifling mishap; she knew that no soul in the world save her parents would think it a duty to help her, save in the way of bare charity.  Naturally her old point of view was now changed; it was this that led her to revive the discussion with her father, and to speak in a tone which Mr. Hood heard with some surprise.

‘Next year, perhaps, Emily,’ he said.  ’After Surrey, I don’t think you can really need another change.  I am delighted to see how well you look.  I, too, am remarkably well, and I can’t help thinking your mother gets stronger.  How do you find her looking?’

’Better than usual, I really think.  All the same, it is clearly impossible for you and her to live on year after year without any kind of change.’

’Oh, my dear, we don’t feel it.  It’s so different with older people; a change rather upsets us than otherwise.  You know how nervous your mother gets when she is away from home.’

Their walk brought them round again to the top of the Heath.  Mr. Hood looked at his watch, and found that it was time to be moving homewards.  Tea was punctually at five.  Mrs. Hood would take it ill if they were late, especially on Saturday.

As they walked across the smooth part of the upper common, looking at the houses around, they saw coming towards them a gentleman followed by three dogs.  He was dressed in a light tweed suit, and brandished a walking-stick, as if animal spirits possessed him strongly.

‘Why, here comes Mr. Dagworthy,’ remarked Mr. Hood, in a low tone, though the other was still at a considerable distance.  ’He generally goes off somewhere on Saturday afternoon.  What a man he is for dogs!  I believe he keeps twenty or thirty at the house there.’

Emily evinced just a little self-consciousness.  It was possible that Mr. Dagworthy would stop to speak, for she had become, in a measure, acquainted with him in the preceding spring.  She was at home then for a few weeks before her departure for London, and the Baxendales, who had always shown her much kindness, invited her to an evening party, at which Dagworthy was present.  He had chatted with her on that occasion.

Yes, he was going to speak.  He was a man of five-and-thirty, robust, rather florid, with eyes which it was not disagreeable to meet, though they gazed with embarrassing persistency, and a mouth which he would have done well to leave under the natural shelter of a moustache; it was at once hard and sensual.  The clean-shaving of his face gave his appearance a youthfulness to which his tone of speech did not correspond.

’How do you do, Miss Hood?  Come once more into our part of the world, then?  You have been in London, I hear.’