bent on explanation. "I meant to imply that the general belief with us
over there"--pointing to the horizon, which would have led him to
America rather than to England--"is that everybody here is half
savage--d'ye see--eh?"

"Oh, yes, it's quite plain," says Miss Beresford, her eyes immovably
fixed on the horizon. "'Over _there_' must be a most enlightened spot."

"So of course I thought the goatskins, etc., would be the order of the
day," goes on Mr. Ryde, with another chuckle.

"You do think sometimes, then?" says Monica, innocently.

"I have been thinking of _you_ ever since I first saw you this
afternoon," returns he, promptly, if unwisely.

There is an almost imperceptible pause, and then--

"Don't trouble yourself to do that again," says Monica _very_ sweetly,
but with a telltale flash in her blue eyes; "I am sure it must fatigue
you dreadfully. Remember what a warm day it is. Another thing: don't for
the future, please, say rude things about Ireland, because I don't like
that _either_."

The "_either_" is the cruellest cut of all: it distinctly forbids him
even to think of her.

"I am afraid I have been unlucky enough to offend you," says young Mars,
stiffly, awaking at last to a sense of the situation, and glancing down
uneasily at the demure little figure marching beside him with her pretty
head erect. "I didn't mean it, I assure you. What I said was said in
fun."

"Are you always like that when you are funny?" asks she, looking
straight before her. "Then I think, if I were you, I wouldn't do it."

Then she is a little ashamed of her severity, and, changing her tone,
makes herself so charming to him that he quite recovers his spirits
before they come up with all the others on the lawn.

Yet perhaps her smiles have wrought him more harm than her frowns.

Madam O'Connor, going up to Miss Priscilla, engages her in some
discussion, so that presently Monica finds Brian beside her again.

"You will let me see you again soon," he says, in a low tone, seeing
Ryde is talking to Miss Fitzgerald.

"But how can I?"

"You can if you will. Meet me somewhere, as I may not call; bring your
brother, your sister, _any one_, with you; only meet me."

"If I did that, how could I look at Aunt Priscilla afterwards?" says
Monica, growing greatly distressed. "It would be shameful; I should feel
like a traitor. I feel like it already."

"Then do nothing. Take a passive part, if you will, and leave all to
me," says