tless you are not aware that this
is proscribed land."

"Then you _are_ Mr. Shaw?" she asked, checking her horse with
premeditated surprise and an emphasis that puzzled him.

"Yes, madam," he responded gravely, "the hated Shaw. Permit me," and
he politely grasped the bridle rein. To her amazement he deliberately
turned and began to lead her horse, willy nilly, down the road, very
much as if she were a child taking her first riding lesson.

"What are you doing, sir?" she exclaimed sharply. There was a queer
flutter of helplessness in her voice.

"Putting you off," he answered laconically. She laughed in delight and
he looked up with a relieved smile. "I'm glad you don't mind. I have
to do it. These feuds are such beastly things, you know. One has to
live up to them whether he likes it or not."

"So you are putting me off your place? Oh, how lovely!"

"It isn't far, you know--just down by those big rocks. Your line is
there. Of course," he went on politely, "you know that there _is_ a
feud."

"Oh, yes; I've heard you discussed. Besides, I met Tompkins and James
this morning. Pardon me, Mr. Shaw, but I fancy I can get on without
being led. Would you mind--"

"My dear madam, there is no alternative. I have taken a solemn vow
personally to eject all Bazelhurst trespassers from my place. You
forget that I am, by your orders, to be thrown into the river and all
that. Don't be alarmed! I don't mean to throw you into the river."

"By my orders? It seems to me that you have confused me with Lord
Bazelhurst."

"Heaven has given me keener perception, your ladyship. I have seen his
lordship."

"Ah, may I inquire whether he was particularly rough with afternoon?"

"I trust I am too chivalrous to answer that question."

"You are quite dry."

"Thank you. I deserve the rebuke, all right."

"Oh, I mean you haven't been in the river."

"Not since morning. Am I walking too fast for you?"

"Not at all. One couldn't ask to be put off more considerately."

"By Jove," he said involuntarily, his admiration getting the hotter of
him.

"I beg your pardon," with the slightly elevated eyebrows.

"Do you know, you're not at all what I imagined you'd be."

"Oh? And I fancy I'm not at all _whom_ you imagined me to be."

"Heavens! Am I ejecting an innocent bystander? You _are_ Lady
Bazelhurst?"

"I am Penelope Drake. But"--she added quickly--"I _am_ an enemy. I am
Lord Bazelhurst's sister."

"You--you don't mean it?"