u
were enabled to marry Patricia's money, just as the Musgraves of
Matocton always marry some woman who is able to support them. Ah, but it
was her money you married, and not Patricia! Any community of interest
between you was impossible, and is radically impossible. Your marriage
was a hideous mistake, just as mine was. For you are starving her soul,
Rudolph, just as Anne has starved mine. And now, at last, when Patricia
and I have seen our single chance of happiness, we cannot--no! we cannot
and we will not--defer to any outworn tradition or to fear of Mrs.
Grundy's narrow-minded prattle!"

Charteris swept aside the dogmas of the world with an indignant gesture
of somewhat conscious nobility; and he turned to his companion in an
attitude of defiance.

Musgrave was smiling. He smoked and seemed to enjoy his cigarette.

The day was approaching sunset. The sun, a glowing ball of copper, hung
low in the west over a rampart of purple clouds, whose heights were
smeared with red. A slight, almost imperceptible, mist rose from the
river, and, where the horizon should have been, a dubious cloudland
prevailed. Far to the west were orange-colored quiverings upon the
stream's surface, but, nearer, the river dimpled with silver-tipped
waves; and, at their feet, the water grew transparent, and splashed over
the sleek, brown sand, and sucked back, leaving a curved line of
bubbles which, one by one, winked, gaped and burst. There was a drowsy
peacefulness in the air; behind them, among the beeches, were many
stealthy wood-sounds; and, at long intervals, a sleepy, peevish
twittering went about the nested trees.

In Colonel Musgrave's face, the primal peace was mirrored.

"May I ask," said he at length, "what you propose doing?"

Mr. Charteris answered promptly. "I, of course, propose," said he, "to
ask Patricia to share the remainder of my life."

"A euphemism, as I take it, for an elopement. I hardly thought you
intended going so far."

"Rudolph!" cried Charteris, drawing himself to his full height--and he
was not to blame for the fact that it was but five-feet-six--"I am, I
hope, an honorable man! I cannot eat your salt and steal your honor. So
I loot openly, or not at all."

The colonel shrugged his shoulders.

"I presuppose you have counted the cost--and estimated the necessary
breakage?"

"True love," the novelist declared, in a hushed, sweet voice, "is above
such considerations."

"I think," said Musgrave slowly,