l of such stabbing anger, that
involuntarily they all looked down.

"I want to speak to you alone," he said to Lady Casterley.

Visibly, for perhaps the first time in her life, that indomitable little
figure flinched. Lord Dennis drew Barbara away, but at the door he
whispered:

"Stay here quietly, Babs; I don't like the look of this."

Unnoticed, Barbara remained hovering.

The two voices, low, and so far off in the long white room, were
uncannily distinct, emotion charging each word with preternatural power
of penetration; and every movement of the speakers had to the girl's
excited eyes a weird precision, as of little figures she had once
seen at a Paris puppet show. She could hear Miltoun reproaching his
grandmother in words terribly dry and bitter. She edged nearer and
nearer, till, seeing that they paid no more heed to her than if she were
an attendant statue, she had regained her position by the window.

Lady Casterley was speaking.

"I was not going to see you ruined before my eyes, Eustace. I did what I
did at very great cost. I did my best for you."

Barbara saw Miltoun's face transfigured by a dreadful smile--the smile
of one defying his torturer with hate. Lady Casterley went on:

"Yes, you stand there looking like a devil. Hate me if you like--but
don't betray us, moaning and moping because you can't have the moon.
Put on your armour, and go down into the battle. Don't play the coward,
boy!"

Miltoun's answer cut like the lash of a whip.

"By God! Be silent!"

And weirdly, there was silence. It was not the brutality of the words,
but the sight of force suddenly naked of all disguise--like a fierce
dog let for a moment off its chain--which made Barbara utter a little
dismayed sound. Lady Casterley had dropped into a chair, trembling. And
without a look Miltoun passed her. If their grandmother had fallen dead,
Barbara knew he would not have stopped to see. She ran forward, but the
old woman waved her away.

"Go after him," she said, "don't let him go alone."

And infected by the fear in that wizened voice, Barbara flew.

She caught her brother as he was entering the taxi-cab in which he
had come, and without a word slipped in beside him. The driver's face
appeared at the window, but Miltoun only motioned with his head, as if
to say: Anywhere, away from here!

The thought flashed through Barbara: "If only I can keep him in here
with me!"

She leaned out, and said quietly:

"To Nettlefol