You haven't really hurt me, you know.
What on earth were you doing?"

But she gave no sign she heard him. Only her hands clung close to
Christopher and she trembled a little.

"She is ill," cried Geoffry quickly. "Put her down, Christopher, she's
faint."

"No, she is not," returned the other through clenched teeth, "she will
be all right directly, if you'll give her time. For heaven's sake go
away, man. Don't let her see you like that. Don't you know your head
is cut."

Geoffry put up his hand mechanically, and found plentiful evidence of
this truth, but he was still bewildered as to what had actually
happened, and he was aching with desire to take her from Christopher's
hold.

"It was just an accident," he protested. "She didn't mean to hit me,
of course. Let her lie down."

"She did mean to hit you, just at the moment," returned the other,
very quietly, "haven't you been told. Oh, do go away, there's a good
fellow. I'll explain presently."

He was sick with dread lest Patricia should give way to one of her
terrible paroxysms of sorrow before them both. She was trembling all
over and he did not know how much self-control she had gained. Then
suddenly he understood what was the real trouble with poor Geoffry.

"Don't mind my holding her, Geoffry," he went on swiftly, "I've seen
her like this before and understand, and I can always stop her, but
she mustn't see you like that first."

Geoffry stood biting his lip and then turned abruptly on his heel and
left them--and for all his relief at his departure, Christopher felt a
faint glow of contempt at his obedience.

"Is he gone?" Patricia lifted her white face and black-rimmed eyes to
his.

"Yes, dear."

"Did I hurt him?"

"Not seriously. Sorry I was not quicker, Patricia."

"I did not even know myself," she answered, wearily. "Christopher, why
was I born? Why didn't someone let me die?"

He gave her a little shake. "Don't talk like a baby. But, Patricia,
how is it Geoffry doesn't know?"

She looked round with languid interest.

"Why did he go?"

"I sent him away."

"He went?"

"What else could he do?"

She made no further remark, but sat clasping and unclasping her
nervous hands, as powerless against the desperate languor assailing
her as she had been against the gust of passion.

Across the wide, smiling land westward a closed shadow, sharp of
outline and rapid of flight, drove across the stubble field, sank in
an intervening valley, and s