ke that," she said, softly. "And we won't think it goes to
waste. It would be too sad. Go on, tell me about your pouring it out in
all directions. I should like to hear about it."

Jeannie hated herself as she spoke; she was using all her woman's charm
to draw him on, and--a thing which he could not follow, though she knew
it well--she was using lightness of touch so that he should not see how
much she was in earnest. She had used, too, that sacred name of
friendship to encourage him to draw nearer her, for no man could listen
to what she had been saying without reading into it some directly
personal meaning; clearly the friendship she spoke of concerned him and
her, for no woman talks to a man about friendship purely in the
abstract unless she is his grandmother. And she was not; nobody could be
less like a grandmother, as she sat there, in the full beauty of her
thirty years and her ripened womanhood.

She was beautiful, and she knew it; she had charm, she was alone on this
hot thundery day with him in the punt. Also she meant to use all power
that was hers. The plan was to detach him from the girl, and the manner
of his detachment was the attachment to her. Daisy must be shown how
light were his attachments.

Indeed, the handicap of years did not seem so heavy now. She was
perfectly well aware that men looked at her as she went by, and turned
their heads after she had passed. And this hot, sweltering day, she
knew, suited her and the ripe rather Southern beauty of her face, though
in others it might only be productive of headache or fatigue. Indeed, it
was little wonder that her plan had made so promising a beginning.

He moved again a little nearer her, clasping his knees in his hands.

"You've talked about friends," he said, "and you are encouraging me to
talk about them. It's a jolly word; it means such a jolly thing. And I'm
beginning to hope I have found one in this last day or two."

There was no mistaking this, nor was there any use in her pretending not
to know what he meant; indeed, it was worse than useless, for it was for
this she had been working. There was no touch or hint of passion in his
voice; he was speaking of friends as a boy might speak. And she liked
him.

She held out her hand with a charming frankness of gesture.

"That is a very good hearing," she said. "I congratulate you. And,
Lord Lindfield, it isn't only you I congratulate; I congratulate
myself most heartily."

He unclasped his