it! You don't think I came down here to see only
you, after having just spent nearly four weeks with you, in that fool
quest on Greenberry Point?" He turned, suddenly, and faced Croyden.
"Who was the woman you told?"

"Miss Carrington!" Croyden laughed. "Think she will retail it to the
dear public?"

"Oh, go to thunder!"

"Because, if you do, you might mention it to her--there, she goes,
now!"

"Where?" said Macloud, whirling around toward the window.

Croyden made no reply. It was not necessary. On the opposite side of
the street, Miss Carrington--in a tailored gown of blue broadcloth,
close fitting and short in the skirt, with a velvet toque to match--was
swinging briskly back from town.

Macloud watched her a moment in silence.

"The old man is done for, at last!" Croyden thought.

"Isn't she a corker!" Macloud broke out. "Look at the poise of the
head, and ease of carriage, and the way she puts down her feet!--that's
the way to tell a woman. God! Croyden, she's thoroughbred!"

"You better go over," said his friend. "It's about the tea hour, she'll
brew you a cup."

"And I'll drink it--as much as she will give me. I despise the stuff,
but I'll drink it!"

"She'll put rum in it, if you prefer!" laughed Croyden; "or make you a
high ball, or you can have it straight--just as you want."

"Come along!" exclaimed Macloud. "We're wasting time."

"I'll be over, presently," Croyden replied. "_I_ don't want any tea,
you know."

"Good!" Macloud answered, from the hallway. "Come along, as soon as you
wish--but don't come _too soon_."

XV

AN OLD RUSE

Macloud found Miss Carrington plucking a few belated roses, which,
somehow, had escaped the frost.

She looked up at his approach, and smiled--the bewilderingly bewitching
smile which lighted her whole countenance and seemed to say so much.

"Back again! to Clarendon and its master?" was her greeting.

"And, if I may, to you," he replied.

"Very good! After them, you belong to _me_," she laughed.

"Why after?" he inquired.

"I don't know--it was the order of speech, and the order of
acquaintance," with a naive look.

"But not the order of--regard."

"Content!" she exclaimed. "You did it very well for a--novice."

He tapped the gray hair upon his temples.

"A novice?" he inflected.

"You decline to accept it?--Very well, sir, very well!"

"I can't accept, and be honest," he replied.

"And you must be honest! Oh, brave man! Oh, noble