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Peter stopped, wiped the pipe on his sleeve, and put it back in his pocket.

“Marvellous!” breathed Neil softly.

Again there was a pause, and again it was broken by Neil.

“I say, will you come back and have lunch with me?” There was a frank spontaneity about the question.

Again the wistful look crept into Peter’s blue eyes. The suggestion coming suddenly was evidently somewhat of a temptation.

“I believe I’d like to,” he said lightly, “but——”

“Well?” asked Neil.

Peter shook his head. “I think not,” he said. “There are quite nine hundred and ninety-nine reasons against it, and only one for it.”

“And isn’t the one reason good enough to counteract the others?”

Peter laughed. “I fancy not. The high-road has claimed me, the hedge-side is my dining-place, the sky my roof. When it is too unkind to me, I seek shelter in a barn. I’ve struck up a kind of silent intimacy with cows, sheep, and horses. I’ve found them, indeed, quite pleased to welcome me.”

“It must be horribly lonely,” said Neil impulsively.