ere is no room for
hopelessness; despair's out of the question.'

He sat quietly for a few seconds, and then leapt to his feet. 'You are
right,' he said; 'there is no chance in the world, there is no such
thing as luck. I can't explain it a bit, but there isn't. God never
makes a mistake. After all, I could not help falling in love with her,
and my love has a meaning. Of course she is not for me,--I am not
worthy of her; but I can defend her, I can see that no harm happens to
her. Yes, I see, I see. Good night, Luscombe, I--I want to be alone
now'; and without another word he passed back into his own room.

The next day was Saturday, and we spent the morning roaming through the
countryside around Bolivick, and climbing a rugged tor which lay some
distance at the back of the house.

As we neared the house after our long morning's walk, Lorna Bolivick
broke out abruptly: 'I am disappointed in your friend, Captain
Luscombe.'

'Why?' I asked.

'I don't know. I think I admire him--in fact I am sure I do. He
possesses a strange charm, and, in a way, he's just splendid. But why
does he dislike me?'

'Does he dislike you?' I asked.

'Can't you see? He avoids me. When for a few minutes we are together,
he never speaks.'

'That doesn't prove he dislikes you.'

'Oh, but he does! He acts so strangely, too.'

'You must make allowances for him,' I said. 'You must remember his
history. He told you last night that you were the first lady he ever
remembered speaking to. It seemed an extravagant statement, but in a
way it is true. What his past has been I don't know, but since I knew
him his life has never been influenced by women. Think what that means
to a man! Besides, he is sensitive and shy. I can quite understand
his being uneasy in your presence.'

'Am I such an ogress, then?' And she looked into my face with a laugh.
'Besides, why should he be sensitive about me?'

'Might not his peculiar mental condition make him afraid of offending
you?' I asked. 'Of course it is not for me to say, but I can quite
understand his being very anxious to impress you favourably. And
because he thinks he is awkward, and uninteresting, he is afraid to be
natural, and to act as he would like to act.'

'I wish you could let him know,' said Lorna in her childlike
outspokenness, 'that I admire him tremendously. I had no idea he had
been such a hero. The way he saved Captain Springfield was just beyond
words. Oh,