t nurse spending her
morning in this fashion, but if you know Miss Ross at all, you will
already have realised that under her placid exterior she has a will of
iron."

"I shouldn't say _you_ were lacking in determination."

"Oh, I'm nothing to Jan. _She_ exerts physical force. Look at me perched
up here! How can I get down without a bad fall, swathed like a mummy in
wraps; while my employer does my work?"

"But you don't want to get down. You look awfully comfortable."

"I am awfully comfortable--but it's most ... unprofessional--please
don't tell anybody else."

Meg closed her eyes, looking rather like a sleepy kitten, and Miles
watched her in silence with a pain at his heart. Something kept saying
over and over again: "Six years ago that girl there ran off with Walter
Brooke. Six years ago that apparently level-headed, sensible little
person was dazzled by the pinchbeck graces of that epicure in
sensations." Miles fully granted his charm, his gentle melancholy, his
caressing manner; but with it all Miles felt that he was so plainly "a
wrong-'un," so clearly second-rate and untrustworthy--and a nice girl
ought to recognise these things intuitively.

Miles looked very sad and grave, and Meg, suddenly opening her eyes,
found him regarding her with this incomprehensible expression.

"You are not exactly talkative," she said.

"I thought, perhaps, you wanted to rest, and would rather not talk.
Maybe I'm a bit of a bore, and you'd rather I went away?"

"You have not yet asked after William."

"I hoped to find William, but he's nowhere to be seen."

"He's with Jan and the children. I think"--here Meg lifted her curly
head over the edge of the hammock--"he is the very darlingest animal in
the world. I love William."

"You do! I knew you would."

"I do. He's so faithful and kind and understanding."

"Has he been quite good?"

"Well ... once or twice he may have been a little--destructive--but you
expect that with children."

"I hope you punish him."

"Jan does. Jan has a most effectual slap, but there's always a dreadful
disturbance with the children on these occasions. Little Fay roars the
house down when William has to be chastised."

"What has he done?"

"I'm not going to tell tales of William."

Miles and Meg smiled at one another, and Walter Brooke faded from his
mind.

"Perhaps," he said, and paused, "you will by and by allow to William's
late master a small portion of that regard?"

"If Wil