could take it, Fin had looked straight before her and
marched on, her little lips pinched together, and her arm tight in that
of her sister; while Tiny met Trevor's gaze in one short, sad look--
piteous, reproachful, and heartbroken--before she hurried away.

Volume 2, Chapter XII.

INVITATIONS.

Trevor returned home in no very enviable frame of mind. The look Tiny
Rea had given him troubled him more than he could express, and he felt
ready to rail at Fortune for the tricks she had played him. Old Lloyd
came, smiling and deferential, into the room with some letters, which
his master snatched up and threw on the table.

"In which room are Captain Vanleigh and Sir Felix?"

"I think they're gone up to Tolcarne, sir," said the butler.

Worse and worse: they were evidently liked there, too, and that was the
reason why they prolonged their stay without a word of leaving.

"Is there anything I can get for you, sir?" said the butler.

"No," said Trevor, sharply.

And he walked out of the room, to encounter Mrs Lloyd, who was ready to
smile and give him a curtsey; but he passed her with such an expression
of anger that the blood flushed into her face, and she stood looking
after him as, with his letters crumpled in his hand, he walked out into
the grounds, to think over what he should next do.

"I'll send them both away," he thought. "That old woman's insolence is
intolerable. It's plain enough. Pratt's right. Where is the little
humbug? Out of the way just when I want him. I'll give that old woman
such a setting down one of these days--but I have not time now."

He sat very still for a time, thinking of what he should do--Tiny's soft
eyes haunting him the while, with their sad reproachful look.

He had seen very little of her, but, sailor-like, his heart had gone
with a bound to her who had won it; and he was even now accusing himself
of being dilatory in his love.

"Yes," he said, "I do love her, and very dearly. I'll see her, tell her
frankly all, take her into my counsel, and she will believe me. I'm
sure she will, and forgive me too. Humph! Forgive me for doing
nothing. But I must talk to the old gentleman--propose in due form, ask
his permission to visit his daughter, and the rest of it. Heigho! what
a lot of formality there is in this life! I think I may cope with her,
though. She looked so gently reproachful I could wait; but no, I
mustn't do that. I'll call this afternoon and suffer the g