gs. My sister is older, but I don't mind
going first--even if it is bad manners."

"Is that why you have never asked me to marry you?" she said, white as a
ghost.

Startled to silence he walked on beside her. She had pressed her pallid
face against his shoulder again; one thin hand crushed her gloves and
riding-crop into her hip, the other, doubled, left in the palm pale
imprints of her fingers.

"Is _that_ the reason?" she repeated.

"No, dear."

"Is it because you do not care for me--enough?"

"Partly. But that is easily remedied."

"Or"--with bent head--"because you think too--lightly--of me--"

"No! That's a lie anyway."

"A--a lie?"

"Yes. You lie to yourself if you think that! You are _not_ that sort.
You are not, and you never were and never could be. Don't you suppose I
know?"--almost with a sneer: "I won't have it--nor would you! It is you,
not I, who have controlled this situation; and if you don't realise it I
do. I never doubted you even when you prattled to me of moderation. _I_
know that you were not named with your name in mockery, or in vain."

Dumb, thrilled, understanding in a blind way what this man had said,
dismayed to find safety amid the elements of destruction, a sudden
belief in herself--in him, too, began to flicker. "Had the still small
flame been relighted for her? Had it never entirely died?"

"If--you will have me, Louis," she whispered.

"I don't love you. I'm rather nearer than I ever have been just now. But
I am not in love."

"Could you ever--"

"Yes."

"Then--why--"

"I'll tell you why, some day. Not now."

They had come to where their horses were tied. He put her up, adjusted
boot-strap and skirt, then swung gracefully aboard his own pie-faced
Tallahassee nag, wheeling into the path beside her.

"The world," observed Malcourt, using his favourite quotation, "is _so_
full of a number of things--like you and me and that coral snake
yonder.... It's very hard to make a coral snake bite you; but it's death
if you succeed.... Whack that nag if he plunges! Lord, what a nose for
sarpints horses have! Hamil was telling me--by the way, there's nothing
degenerate about our distant cousin, John Garret Hamil; but he's not
pure pedigree. However, I'd advise him to marry into some fresh, new
strain--"

"He seems likely to," said Virginia.

After a moment Malcourt looked around at her curiously.

"Do you mean Shiela Cardross?"

"Obviously."

"You think it safe?"--moc