s of self-control. The man
who keeps his temper is immeasurably stronger than the man who loses it."

Piers was frowning; his dark eyes looked almost black. Suddenly he turned
upon her. "Mrs. Denys, I have a strong suspicion that your temper is a
sweet one. If so, you're no judge of these things. Why didn't you leather
me with my own whip yesterday? You had me at your mercy."

Avery smiled. Plainly he was set upon a personal encounter, and she could
not avoid it. "Well, frankly, Mr. Evesham," she said, "I was never nearer
to striking anyone in my life."

"Then why did you forbear? You weren't afraid to souse me with
cold water."

"Oh no," she said. "I wasn't afraid."

"I believe you were," maintained Piers. "You're afraid to speak your mind
to me now anyway."

She laughed a little. "No, I'm not. I really can't explain myself to you.
I think you forget that we are practically strangers."

"You talk as if I had been guilty of familiarity," said Piers.

"No, no! I didn't mean that," Avery coloured suddenly, and the soft glow
made her wonderfully fair to see. "You know quite well I didn't mean
it," she said.

"It's good of you to say so," said Piers. "But I really didn't know. I
thought you had decided that I was a suitable subject for snubbing. I'm
not a bit. I'm so accustomed to it that I don't care a--" he paused with
a glance of quizzical daring, and, as she managed to look severe, amended
the sentence--"that I am practically indifferent to it. Mrs. Denys, I
wish you had struck me yesterday."

"Really?" said Avery.

"Yes, really. I should then have had the pleasure of forgiving you.
It's a pleasure I don't often get. You see, I'm usually the one that's
in the wrong."

She looked at him then with quick interest; she could not help it. But
the dark eyes triumphed over her so shamelessly that she veiled it on
the instant.

Piers laughed. "Mrs. Denys, may I ask a directly personal question?"

"I don't know why you should," said Avery.

They were nearing the pillar-box at the end of the Vicarage lane, and she
was firmly determined that at that box their ways should separate.

"I know you think I'm bold and bad," said Piers. "Some kind friend has
probably told you so. But I'm not. I've been brought up badly, that's
all. I think you might bear with me. I'm quite willing to be bullied."
There was actual pathos in the declaration.

Again the fleeting dimple hovered near Avery's mouth. "Please don't take
my