quickly backwards, glancing a little disconsolately at his
bespattered trousers.

"I am exceedingly sorry, Mr. Pratt," she apologised, biting her lip.

"No consequence at all," he assured her. "My fault entirely. By the
bye, I hope you are quite comfortable. No complaints?"

"None whatever," she conceded a little grudgingly.

"Water supply all right?"

"Quite."

"And the lighting?"

"Excellent. In fact," the girl went on bitterly, "the place is a
perfect Paradise for paupers and people who have to earn their own
living."

"There is no need for you to do that," he ventured.

She looked at him in most disconcerting fashion. All the pleasant
lights which lurked sometimes in her blue eyes seemed transformed into
a hard stare. Her eyebrows were drawn together in an ominous frown.
Her chin was uplifted.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

Jacob hesitated, floundered and was lost. Not a word of all the
eloquence which was stored up in his heart could pass his lips. He who
had already made a start, and later on was to hold his own in the
world of unexpected happenings, shrank like a coward from the mute
antagonism in the girl's eyes.

"You know," he faltered.

"The only alternative I am aware of to earning my own living," she
said quietly, "is charity. Were you proposing to offer me a share of
your wonderful fortune?"

"Only if I myself were attached to it," he answered, with a spark of
courage.

She turned and looked at him.

"I am afraid," she said, "that you are inclined to take advantage of
your position, Mr. Pratt."

"I want to say nothing to worry or annoy you," he assured her. "It is
only an accident that I am interested in this estate. I am not your
benefactor. You pay your rent and you are quite independent."

"If I felt that it were otherwise," she replied, "we should not be
here."

"I am sure of it," he declared. "I am only taking the privilege of
every man who is honest, in telling the truth to the girl whom he
prefers to any one else in the world."

"You are an ardent lover, Mr. Pratt," she scoffed.

"If I don't say any more," he retorted, "it is because you paralyse
me. You won't let me speak."

"And I don't intend to," she answered coldly. "If you wish to retain
any measure of my friendship at all, you will keep your personal
feelings with regard to me to yourself."

Jacob for a moment cursed life, cursed himself, his nervousness, and
the whole situation. A little breeze came stea