very highly susceptible
temperament. And for a third, I believe Isabel would prefer to stay at
Great Mallowes."

"You're mighty clever, my son, aren't you?" said Eustace with a
supercilious twist of the lips. "But--as it chances--not one of those
excellent reasons appeals to me."

"Very well then," said Scott, with the utmost patience. "It is up to you
to accept."

"Why should Isabel prefer Great Mallowes?" demanded Sir Eustace. "She
knows the de Vignes. It is far better for her to see people, and there is
more comfort in a private house than in a hotel."

"Quite so," said Scott. "I am sure she will fall in with your wishes in
this respect, whatever they are. Will you write to Colonel de Vigne, or
shall I?"

"You can--and accept," returned Sir Eustace imperially.

Scott took a sheet of paper without further words.

His brother leaned back in his chair, his black brows slightly drawn, and
contemplated him as he did it.

"By the way, Scott," he said, after a moment, "Dinah's staying here need
not make any difference to you in any way. She can't expect to have you
at her beck and call as she had in Switzerland. You must make that clear
to her."

"Very well, old chap." Scott spoke without raising his head. "You're
going to meet her at the station, I suppose?"

"Almost immediately, yes." Eustace got up with a movement of suppressed
impatience. "We shall have tea in Isabel's room. You needn't turn up.
I'll tell them to send yours in here."

"Oh, don't trouble! I'm going to turn up," very calmly Scott made
rejoinder. He had already begun to write; his hand moved steadily across
the sheet.

Sir Eustace's frown deepened. "You won't catch the post with those
letters if you do."

Scott looked up at last, and his eyes were as steady as his hand had
been. "That's my business, old chap," he said quietly. "Don't you worry
yourself about that!"

There was a hint of ferocity about Sir Eustace as he met that steadfast
look. He stood motionless for a moment or two, then flung round on his
heel. Scott returned to his work with the composure characteristic of
him, and almost immediately the banging of the door told of his brother's
departure.

Then for a second his hand paused; he passed the other across his eyes
with the old gesture of weariness, and a short, hard sigh came from him
ere he bent again to his task.

Sir Eustace strode across the hall with the frown still drawing his
brows. An open car was waiting at th