was cautiously descending the steps accompanied by two other dogs.
"If these steps give way, and I break my leg," he called out, "you are responsible, Mr. Vale. Come away, Badger, you rascal!" He crossed the sand and Derek sprang to his feet.
"Mrs. Machin told me I should find you down here. I hope you're not hiding from her. I'm sure I'd be afraid of her. I am William Jerrold, a neighbour of yours. I came to see if you will come over to my place and have a cup of tea with us. I saw you in church this morning. How did you like it?"
"That's very kind of you," said Vale. "I liked the church. Good sermon, too."
They both laughed. "My watch was rather unmanageable, wasn't it? But Ramsey has forgiven me. He's at the house now. You'll like him—out of church, anyway."
"I liked him in church. But his sermon was certainly long."
"Get him talking about strawberry-growing, or poultry raising, or the best recipe for jugged hare, and he's decidedly interesting."
They had climbed the steps and were walking along the road now. Derek watched Mr. Jerrold's face with interest as he talked. In his rough tweed coat and soft hat he looked even more handsome than in church. His black wavy hair, which was becoming thin at the forehead, still curled closely around his temples. His finely moulded mouth expressed at once, engaging good humour and an ardent, quick temper. But it was his large, dark eyes under their black brows, eyes pathetic, wistful, yet full of fire, that stirred the emotions of the observer.
The two men were strongly contrasted, yet a boyish love of life and a certain pleasure in their own bodies drew them
