eared wholly
unconscious of the admiration she excited. She who was sometimes
inclined, perhaps, to carry herself a little haughtily in her mother's
drawing-room, was here only anxious to share in the genial atmosphere of
friendliness which the general tone of her surroundings seemed to
demand.

"Well, what was the final result of your efforts towards companionship?"
she enquired, after they had praised the chicken enthusiastically and
the wave of service had momentarily ebbed kitchenwards.

"They have led me to only one conclusion," he answered swiftly.

"Which is?"

"That if you remain on Exmoor and I in Westminster, the affairs of this
country are not likely to prosper."

She laughed softly.

"As though I made any real' difference!"

Then she saw a transformed man. The firm mouth suddenly softened, the
keen bright eyes glowed. A light shone out of his worn face which few
had ever seen there.

"You make all the difference," he whispered. "You of your mercy can
save me from the rocks. I have discovered very late in life, too late,
many would say, that I cannot build the temples of life with hands and
brain alone. Even though the time be short and I have so little to
offer, I am your greedy suitor. I want help, I want sympathy, I want
love."

There was nothing whatever left now of Lady Jane of Woolhanger.
Segerson would probably not have recognised his autocratic mistress.
The most timid of her tenant farmers would have adopted a bold front
with her. She was simply a very beautiful woman, trembling a little,
unsteady, nervous and unsure of herself.

"Oh, I wish you hadn't said that!" she faltered.

"But I must say it," he insisted, with that alien note of tenderness
still throbbing in his tone. "You are not a dabbler in life. You have
never been afraid to stand on your feet, to look at it whole. There is
the solid, undeniable truth. It is a woman's glory to help men on to
the great places, and the strangest thing in all the world is that there
is only one woman for any one man, and for me--you are the only one
woman."

Around them conversation had grown louder, the blue cloud of tobacco
smoke more dense, the odour of cigarettes and coffee more pungent. Down
in the street a wandering musician was singing a little Neapolitan love
song. They heard snatches of it as the door downstairs was opened.

"You have known me for so short a time," she argued. "How can you
possibly be sure that I could give you what