hen
he came. I told you I had a reason for stopping here. Well--that is
it."

"It was to tell me this that you arranged to meet me alone," went on
Blachland. "I conclude it wasn't merely for the pleasure of having a
talk over old times. Am I right?"

"Perfectly."

"Well, then, Hermia, I can't agree to it. Do be reasonable. You have
the whole world to choose from, and you may rely upon it that in any
other connection I will never stand in your way by word or act. But in
this I will. Why are you so bent on winning this boy? He isn't
wealthy, and never will be, except by his own exertions, i.e. the
development of some potential but hitherto undiscovered vein of
rascality in his nature. He is much younger than you, too."

"So you were careful enough to tell him last night," she flashed. "That
was mean of you."

"Last night!" echoed the other, for the moment taken aback, for Percival
had certainly had no opportunity of communicating with her at all that
morning.

"Why, yes. I heard you. Remember the `bushcat' that was disturbing the
fowls? I was the `bushcat'!" And again she broke into a ringing peal
of laughter.

"Eh?"

"I was the `bushcat,' I tell you," she repeated. "That window of yours
is very convenient. I heard every word you said to each other. It was
very mean of you, Hilary, to try and set him against me."

"Well, if you heard every word, you must admit that I might have set him
against you a great deal more than I did. Moreover, Hermia, I believe I
was the unconscious means of saving your life by refusing to open the
window and let him shoot. So you owe me a little gratitude after all."

"No, I don't," came the prompt response. "You don't suppose I'd have
waited there to be shot at, do you? Why, directly you touched the
window to open it. I'd have made myself scarce. You don't catch this
weasel asleep."

"Evidently not," he answered dryly. As a matter of fact she had heard
very little indeed of their conversation, only a scrap here and there.
For the rest, she had been drawing a bow at a venture.

"Now, Hermia," he went on, "Let's have the motive--there's always a
motive, you know. You can't really care for this youngster--let alone
love him--"

"Oh, as for love--You know, Hilary, I never loved any one but you--" she
broke off, almost passionately--"never--before or since."

"Well then, if in that case you couldn't stick to me, how are you going
to stick to this one wh