nd remained there busy until a knock on the door and Mrs.
Connor's hearty voice announced breakfast.

As he stepped out into the passage-way he met Athalie coming from her
room in a soft morning negligee, and still yawning.

She bade him good morning in a sweet, sleepy voice, linked her white,
lace-clouded arm in his, glanced sideways at him, humorously ashamed:

"I'm a disgrace," she said; "I could have slain Mrs. Connor when she
woke me. Oh, Clive, I _am_ so sleepy!"

"Why did you get up?"

"My dear, I'm also hungry; that is why. I could scent the coffee from
afar. And you know, Clive, if you ever wish to hopelessly alienate my
affections, you have only to deprive me of my breakfast. Tell me, did
you get _any_ sleep?"

He forced a smile: "I had sufficient."

"I wonder," she mused, looking at his somewhat haggard features.

They found the table prepared for them in the sun-parlour; Athalie
presided at the coffee urn, but became a trifle flushed and shy when
Mrs. Connor came in bearing a smoking cereal.

"I made a mistake in allowing you to go home," said the girl, "so I
thought it best for Mr. Bailey to remain."

"Sure I was that worritted," burst out Mrs. Connor, "I was minded to
come back--what with all the thramps and Dagoes hereabout, and no dog
on the place, and you alone; so I sez to my man Cornelius,--'Neil,'
sez I, 'it's not right,' sez I, 'f'r to be lavin' th' young lady--'"

"Certainly," interrupted Clive quietly, "and you and Neil are to sleep
in the house hereafter until Miss Greensleeve's servants arrive."

"I'm not afraid," murmured Athalie, looking at him with lazy amusement
over the big, juicy peach she was preparing. But when Mrs. Connor
retired her expression changed.

"You dear fellow," she said, "You need not ever be worried about me."

"I'm not, Athalie--"

"Oh, Clive! Aren't you always going to be honest with me?"

"Why do you think I am anxious concerning you when Connor and his
wife--"

"Dearest!"

"What?" He looked across at her where she was serenely preparing his
coffee; and when she had handed the cup to him she shook her head,
gravely, as though in gentle disapproval of some inward thought of
his.

"What is it?" he asked uneasily.

"You know already."

"What _is_ it?" he repeated, reddening.

"Must _I_ tell _you_, Clive?"

"I think you had better."

"_You_ should have told _me_, dear.... Don't ever fear to tell me
what concerns us both. Don't think that leavi