THE END
"Are you going now?" he asked. "Won't you come in to dinner?"
"No," replied Felkin, "I don't want any dinner, and I have an appointment for afterwards."
"Don't let us part ill friends, Felkin," continued Philip Baddock in conciliatory tones. "Do you know that, personally, my feeling is that no woman on earth is worth a serious quarrel between two old friends, such as we have been."
"I'm glad you think so," rejoined the other drily. "S'long."
The cracking of twigs on the moss-covered ground indicated that the two men had parted and were going their several ways.
With infinite caution, and holding my hand tightly in hers, my dear lady made her way along the narrow path which led us out of the wood.
Once in the road we walked rapidly, and soon reached our garden gate. Lady Molly had not spoken a word during all that time, and no one knew better than I did how to respect her silence.
During dinner she tried to talk of indifferent subjects, and never once alluded to the two men whom she had thus wilfully pitted one against the other. That her calm was only on the surface, however, I realised from the fact that every sound on the gravel path outside caused her to start. She was, of course, expecting the visit of Mr. Felkin.
At eight o'clock he came. It was obvious that he had spent the past hour in wandering about in the
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