fternoon, when perhaps the breeze would
freshen? And so they walked back to the house.

On the garden-seat a book lay open. It was Mr. Mill's _Essay on
Liberty_, and it had evidently been left there by Mr. Mackenzie,
perhaps--who knows?--to hint to his friends from the South that he was
familiar with the problems of the age. Lavender winked to Ingram, but
somehow his companion seemed in no humor for a joke.

They had luncheon then, and after luncheon Ingram touched Lavender
on the shoulder and said, "I want to have a word with you privately.
Let's walk down to the shore."

And so they did; and when they had got some little distance from the
house, Ingram said, "Look here, Lavender. I mean to be frank with you.
I don't think it fair that you should try to drag Sheila Mackenzie
into a flirtation. I knew you would fall in love with her. For a week
or two, that does not matter--it harms no one. But I never thought
of the chance of her being led into such a thing, for what is a mere
passing amusement to you would be a very serious thing to her."

"Well?"

"Well? Is not that enough? Do you think it fair to take advantage of
this girl's ignorance of the world?"

Lavender stopped in the middle of the path, and said, somewhat
stiffly, "This may be as well settled at once. You have talked of
flirtation and all that sort of thing. You may regard it as you
please, but before I leave this island I mean to ask Sheila Mackenzie
to be my wife."

"Why, you are mad!" cried Ingram, amazed to see that the young man was
perfectly serious.

The other shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you mean to say," continued Ingram, "that even supposing Sheila
would consent--which is impossible--you would try to take away that
girl from her father?"

"Girls must leave their fathers some time or other," said Lavender
somewhat sullenly.

"Not unless they are asked."

"Oh well, they are sure to be asked, and they are sure to go. If their
mothers had not done so before them, where would they be? It's all
very well for you to talk about it and argue it out as a theory, but
I know what the facts of the case are, and what any man in my position
would do; and I know that I am careless of any consequences so long as
I can secure her for my wife."

"Apparently you are--careless of any consequences to herself or those
about her."

"But what is your objection, Ingram?" said the young man, suddenly
abandoning his defiant manner: "why should you object?