more and more interested in this
man. He obviously disliked talking of himself--a pleasant change which
aroused her curiosity. He was so unlike other men, and his life seemed
to be different from the lives of the men whom she had known--stronger,
more intense, and of greater variety of incident.

"Of course," he went on, "his death was really of enormous advantage to
me. They say that I shall have two or three thousand a year, instead of
five hundred, paid quarterly at Cox's. He could not prevent it coming to
me. It was my mother's money. He would have done so if he could, for
we never disguised our antipathy for each other. Yet we lived together,
and--and I had the nursing of him."

Millicent was listening gravely without interrupting--like a man. She
had the gift of adapting herself to her environments in a marked degree.

"And," he added curtly, "no one knows how much I wanted that three
thousand a year."

The girl moved uneasily, and glanced towards the conservatory.

"He was not an old man," Guy Oscard went on. "He was only forty-nine. He
might have lived another thirty years."

She nodded, understanding the significance of his tone.

"There," he said, with an awkward laugh, "do you still believe in me?"

"Yes," she answered, still looking away.

There was a little pause. They were both sitting forward in their chairs
looking towards the conservatory.

"It was not the money that tempted me," said Guy very deliberately; "it
was you."

She rose from her chair as if to join her aunt and the horticultural old
gentleman.

"You must not say that," she said, in little more than a whisper, and
without looking round she went towards Lady Cantourne. Her eyes were
gleaming with a singular suppressed excitement, such as one sees in the
eyes of a man fresh from a mad run across country.

Guy Oscard rose also, and followed more deliberately. There was nothing
for him to do but to take his leave.

"But," said Lady Cantourne graciously, "if you are determined to go away
you must at least come and say good-bye before you leave."

"Thanks; I should like to do so, if I may."

"We shall be deeply disappointed if you forget," said Millicent, holding
out her hand, with a smile full of light-heartedness and innocent
girlish friendship.

CHAPTER VI. UNDER THE LINE

Enough of simpering and grimace,
Enough of vacuity, trimmed with lace.

"Curse this country! Curse it--curse it!" The man spoke aloud