was a soft black hat, large in the brim and low in the
crown. His grey eyes, heavy-lidded, twinkled under their bushy brows
with a queer, kind cynicism. As a young man he had sown many a wild oat;
but he had also worked and made money in business; he had, in fact,
burned the candle at both ends; but he had never been unready to do his
fellows a good turn. He had a passion for driving, and his reckless
method of pursuing this art had caused him to be nicknamed: "The
notorious Treffry."

Once, when he was driving tandem down a hill with a loose rein, the
friend beside him had said: "For all the good you're doing with those
reins, Treffry, you might as well throw them on the horses' necks."

"Just so," Treffry had answered. At the bottom of the hill they had gone
over a wall into a potato patch. Treffry had broken several ribs; his
friend had gone unharmed.

He was a great sufferer now, but, constitutionally averse to being
pitied, he had a disconcerting way of humming, and this, together with
the shake in his voice, and his frequent use of peculiar phrases, made
the understanding of his speech depend at times on intuition rather than
intelligence.

The clock began to strike eleven. Harz muttered an excuse, shook hands
with his host, and bowing to his new acquaintance, went away. He caught a
glimpse of Greta's face against the window, and waved his hand to her. In
the road he came on Dawney, who was turning in between the poplars, with
thumbs as usual hooked in the armholes of his waistcoat.

"Hallo!" the latter said.

"Doctor!" Harz answered slyly; "the Fates outwitted me, it seems."

"Serve you right," said Dawney, "for your confounded egoism! Wait here
till I come out, I shan't be many minutes."

But Harz went on his way. A cart drawn by cream-coloured oxen was
passing slowly towards the bridge. In front of the brushwood piled on it
two peasant girls were sitting with their feet on a mat of grass--the
picture of contentment.

"I'm wasting my time!" he thought. "I've done next to nothing in two
months. Better get back to London! That girl will never make a
painter!" She would never make a painter, but there was something in her
that he could not dismiss so rapidly. She was not exactly beautiful, but
she was sympathetic. The brow was pleasing, with dark-brown hair softly
turned back, and eyes so straight and shining. The two sisters were very
different! The little one was innocent, yet mysterious