‘Who is he?’ said Margery listlessly.‘A master lime-burner.’‘A master lime-burner?’‘That's his profession. He's a partner-in-co., doing very well indeed.’ ‘But what's his name?’‘I don't like to tell you his name, for, though ‘tis night, that covers all shame- facedness, my face is as hot as a ’Talian iron, I declare! Do you just feel it.’Margery put her hand on Mrs. Peach's face, and, sure enough, hot it was. ‘Does he come courting?’ she asked quickly.‘Well — only in the way of business. He never comes unless lime is wanted in the neighbourhood. He's in the Yeomanry, too, and will look very fine when he comes out in regimentals for drill in May.’‘Oh — in the Yeomanry,’ Margery said, with a slight relief. ‘Then it can't — is he a young man?’‘Yes, junior partner-in-co.’The description had an odd resemblance to Jim, of whom Margery had not heard a word for months. He had promised silence and absence, and had fulfilled his promise literally, with a gratuitous addition that was rather amazing, if indeed it were Jim whom the widow loved. One point in the description puzzled Margery: Jim was not in the Yeomanry, unless, by a surprising development of enterprise, he had entered it recently.At parting Margery said, with an interest quite tender, ‘I should like to see you again, Mrs. Peach, and hear of your attachment. When can you call?’‘Oh — any time, dear Baroness, I'm sure — if you think I am good enough.’ ‘Indeed, I do, Mrs. Peach. Come as soon as you've seen the lime-burner again.’