t until mid-day dinner. But she
felt she was giving the man the excuse he evidently needed.

As a matter of fact, she had a good deal of work to do. And the first
hour after Bill had taken his departure she was fully occupied with
her two villainous hired men. After that she returned to the house,
and wrote several letters, and, finally, took up her position in the
shade, and devoted herself to a basket of long-neglected sewing.

At the sound of the approaching horseman she looked up with a start.
She had no expectation of a visitor, she had no desire for one just
now. Nevertheless, when she discovered the officer's identity, she
displayed no surprise, and more interest, than might have been
expected.

She did not disguise from herself the feelings this man inspired. On
the contrary she rather reveled in them, especially as, in a way, just
now, all her actions must be in direct antagonism to his efforts.

She felt that a battle, a big battle, must be fought and won between
them. It was a battle to be fought out openly and frankly. It was her
determination that this man should not wrong himself by committing a
great wrong upon Charlie Bryant.

Kate was very busy at the moment Fyles rode up. She was intent upon
fitting a piece of lace, obviously too small, upon a delicate white
garment of her sister's, which was obviously too big.

For a moment, as she did not look up, Fyles sat leaning forward in the
saddle with his arms resting upon its horn. He was watching her with
a smiling interest which was not without anxiety.

"There's surely not a dandier picture in the world than a girl sitting
in the shade sewing--white things," he said at last, by way of
greeting.

Kate glanced up for the briefest of smiling glances. Then her dark
head bent over her sewing again.

"And there's surely nothing calculated to upset things more than a man
butting in, where the same girl's fragment of brain is worrying to fit
something that doesn't fit anyway."

"Meaning me?"

Fyles smiled in his confident way.

"Seeing there's no one else around, I must have meant some other
fellow."

Kate laid the lace aside, and looked up with a sigh. A gentle
amusement shone in her fine dark eyes.

"Have you ever tried to make things fit that--just won't?" she
demanded.

Fyles shook his head.

"Maybe I can help, though," he hazarded.

"Help?" Kate's amusement merged into a laugh. "Say, when it comes to
fitting things that don't fit, two