humorously, but only
half, it seemed. "It's true I've knocked about and been knocked about,
but I'd have thought you'd have judged more by results."

She laughed a little low laugh.

"Do you think yourself the results are very bad?"

"Judging by the mirror, beastly! Judging by other standards--well, one
can't see one's self in one's full naked horror, thank Heaven for it
too! But I'm not well read, and I'm not--but what's the good in telling
you? You're clever enough to see for yourself."

For a man who had no intention of paying compliments, Ned Cromarty had
a singular gift for administering the pleasantest--because it was so
evidently the most genuine--form of flattery. In fact, had he but known
it, he was a universal favourite with women, whenever he happened to
meet them; only he had not the least suspicion of the fact--which made
him all the more favoured.

"I don't know very many men," said Cicely, with her serious expression
and a conscientious air, "and so perhaps I am not a good judge, but
certainly you seem to me quite unlike all the others."

"I told you," he laughed, "that the female would have to be a bit of a
collector."

"Oh," she cried, quite serious still, "I don't mean that in the least. I
don't like freaks a bit myself. I only mean--well, people do differ in
character and experience, don't they?"

"I guess you're pretty wise," said he simply. "And I'm sized up right
enough. However, the trouble at present is this blamed mare goes too
fast!"

On their left, the chimneys and roof of a large mansion showed through
the surrounding trees. In this wind-swept seaboard country, its acres of
plantation were a conspicuous landmark and marked it as the seat of some
outstanding local magnate. These trees were carried down to the road in
a narrow belt enclosing an avenue that ended in a lodge and gates. At
the same time that the lodge came into view round a bend in the road, a
man on a bicycle appeared ahead of them, going in the same direction,
and bent over his handle-bars against the wind.

"Hullo, that's surely Malcolm Cromarty!" said Ned.

"So it is!" she exclaimed, and there was a note of surprise in her
voice. "I wonder where he has been."

The cyclist dismounted at the lodge gates a few moments before the trap
pulled up there too, and the young man turned and greeted them. Or
rather he greeted Miss Farmond, for his smile was clearly aimed at her
alone.

"Hullo! Where have you been?" he cr