ier. He was now chafing hotly against the ruling of his
Medical Board, who were insisting that he was not yet fit to go back
to France.

Pamela meanwhile was going through moments of disillusion. After
these two years she had looked forward to the meeting with such
eagerness, such hidden emotion! And now--what was there to have been
eager about? They seemed to be talking almost as strangers. The
soreness of it bewildered her.

Presently, as they were walking back to the house, leaving Sir
Henry in anxious consultation over the mushroom-house with the
grey-haired head gardener, her companion turned to her abruptly.

'I suppose _that's_ all right!' He pointed to some distant figures
on the fringe of a wood.

'Beryl and Aubrey? Yes--if Aubrey can make her see that she isn't
doing him any harm by letting him go on.'

'Good heavens! how could she do him any harm?'

'Well, there's Mannering. As if that mattered!' said the girl
scornfully. 'And then--Beryl's too dreadfully humble!'

'Humble! About what? No girl ought to be humble--ever!'

Pamela's eyes recovered their natural brilliance under his
peremptory look. And he, who had begun the walk with no particular
consciousness at all about his companion, except that she was a
nice, good-looking child, whom he had known from a baby, with equal
suddenness became aware of her in a new way.

'Why shouldn't we be humble, please?' she said, with a laugh.

'Because it's monstrous that you should. Leave that to us!'

'There wouldn't be much of it about, if we did!' The red danced in
her cheek.

'Much humility? Oh, you're quite mistaken. Men are much more humble
than you think. But we're human, of course. If you tempt us, you
soon put the starch into us.'

'Well, you must starch Beryl!' said Pamela, with emphasis. 'She will
think and say that she's not worthy of Aubrey, that she knows
she'll disappoint him, that she wouldn't mind his giving up
Mannering if only she were sure she could make him happy--and heaps
of things like that! I'm sure she's saying them now!'

'I never heard such nonsense in my life!' The masculine face beside
her was all impatience. 'One can't exactly boast about one's sister,
but you and I know very well what Beryl is worth!'

Pamela agreed fervently. 'Besides, Desmond would give it back.'

'Hm--' her companion demurred. 'Giving back isn't always easy. As to
pounds, shillings, and pence, if one must talk of them, it's lucky
that Beryl has her