don't seriously imagine that she would wish you to
throw away your life for her? I'm not such a bad judge of character as
that."

She stopped before the expression on Miltoun's face.

"You go too fast," he said; "I may become a free spirit yet."

To this saying, which seemed to her cryptic and sinister, Lady Valleys
did not know what to answer.

"If you feel, as you say," Lord Valleys began once more, "that the
bottom has been knocked out of things for you by this--this affair,
don't, for goodness' sake, do anything in a hurry. Wait! Go abroad! Get
your balance back! You'll find the thing settle itself in a few months.
Don't precipitate matters; you can make your health an excuse to miss
the Autumn session."

Lady Valleys chimed in eagerly

"You really are seeing the thing out of all proportion. What is a
love-affair. My dear boy, do you suppose for a moment anyone would think
the worse of you, even if they knew? And really not a soul need know."

"It has not occurred to me to consider what they would think."

"Then," cried Lady Valleys, nettled, "it's simply your own pride."

"You have said."

Lord Valleys, who had turned away, spoke in an almost tragic voice

"I did not think that on a point of honour I should differ from my son."

Catching at the word honour, Lady Valleys cried suddenly:

"Eustace, promise me, before you do anything, to consult your Uncle
Dennis."

Miltoun smiled.

"This becomes comic," he said.

At that word, which indeed seemed to them quite wanton, Lord and Lady
Valleys turned on their son, and the three stood staring, perfectly
silent. A little noise from the doorway interrupted them.

CHAPTER XVIII

Left by her father and mother to the further entertainment of Harbinger,
Barbara had said:

"Let's have coffee in here," and passed into the withdrawing room.

Except for that one evening, when together by the sea wall they stood
contemplating the populace, she had not been alone with him since he
kissed her under the shelter of the box hedge. And now, after the first
moment, she looked at him calmly, though in her breast there was a
fluttering, as if an imprisoned bird were struggling ever so feebly
against that soft and solid cage. Her last jangled talk with Courtier
had left an ache in her heart. Besides, did she not know all that
Harbinger could give her?

Like a nymph pursued by a faun who held dominion over the groves, she,
fugitive, kept looking back. There wa