of course they are silly and contemptible; but
what's the use of being attentive enough to a woman--careless enough to
give colour to them?"

After an interval he said: "Perhaps you'll tell me who beside myself
these rumours concern?"

"You know, don't you?"

"There might be several," he said coolly. "Who is it?"

For a moment a tiny flash of anger made her cheeks hot. Then she said:

"You know perfectly well it's Rosalie. I think we have become good
enough comrades for me to use a man's privilege----"

"Men wouldn't permit themselves that sort of privilege," he said,
laughing.

"Aren't men frank with their friends?" she demanded hotly.

"About as frank as women."

"I thought--" She hesitated, tingling with the old desire to hurt him,
flick him in the raw, make him wince in his exasperating complacency.
Then, "I've said it anyhow. I'm trying to show an interest in you--as
you asked me to do----"

He turned in the darkness, caught her hand:

"You dear little thing," he whispered, laughing.

CHAPTER VI

ADRIFT

During the week the guests at Roya-Neh were left very much to their own
devices. Nobody was asked to do anything; there were several good enough
horses at their disposal, two motor cars, a power-boat, canoes, rods,
and tennis courts and golf links. The chances are they wanted
sea-bathing. Inland guests usually do.

Scott Seagrave, however, concerned himself little about his guests. All
day long he moused about his new estate, field-glasses dangling, cap on
the back of his head, pockets bulging with untidy odds and ends until
the increasing carelessness of his attire and manners moved Kathleen
Severn to protest.

"I don't know what is the matter with you, Scott," she said. "You were
always such a fastidious boy--even dandified. Doesn't anybody ever cut
your hair? Doesn't somebody keep your clothes in order?"

"Yes, but I tear 'em again," he replied, carefully examining a small
dark-red newt which he held in the palm of one hand. "I say, Kathleen,
look at this little creature. I was messing about under the ledges along
Hurryon Brook, and found this amphibious gentleman occupying the
ground-floor apartment of a flat stone."

Kathleen craned her dainty neck over the shoulder of his ragged shooting
coat.

"He's red enough to be poisonous, isn't he? Oh, do be careful!"

"It's only a young newt. Take him in your hand; he's cool and clammy
and rather agreeable."

"Scott, I won't touch h