before had he
enjoyed a breakfast half as much. He and Miss Seldon did most of the
talking, while Moya listened, the star flash in her eyes and the
whimsical little smile on her lips.

Joyce was as gay as a lark. She chattered with the childish artlessness
that at times veiled her sophistication. Jack was given to understand
that she loved to be natural and simple, that she detested the shams of
social convention to which she was made to conform. Her big lovely eyes
were wistful in their earnestness as they met his. It was not wholly a
pose with her. For the moment she meant all she said. A delightful
excitement fluttered her pulses. She was playing the game she liked
best, moving forward to the first skirmishes of that sex war which was
meat and drink to her vanity. The man attracted her as few men ever had.
That nothing could come of it beyond the satisfaction of the hour did
not mitigate her zest for the battle.

They were still at breakfast when one of the Cornishmen pushed open the
door and looked in. He stood looking down on them sullenly without
speaking.

"Want to see me, Peale?" asked Kilmeny.

"Did I say I wanted to see 'ee?" demanded the other roughly.

"Better come in and shut the door. The air's chilly."

The battered face of his companion loomed over the shoulder of Peale. To
Kilmeny it was plain that they had come with the idea of making
themselves disagreeable. Very likely they had agreed to force their
company upon the young women for breakfast. But the sight of their
dainty grace, together with Jack's cheerful invitation, was too much for
their audacity. Peale grumbled something inaudible and turned away,
slamming the door as he went.

The young miner laughed softly. If he had shown any unwillingness they
would have pushed their way in. His urbanity had disarmed them.

"They're not really bad men, you know--just think they are," he
explained casually.

"I'm afraid of them. I don't trust them," Joyce shuddered.

"Well, I trust them while they're under my eye. The trouble with men of
that stripe is that they're yellow. A game man gives you a fighting
chance, but fellows of this sort hit while you're not looking. But you
needn't worry. They're real tame citizens this morning."

"Yes, they looked tame," Moya answered dryly. "So tame I'm sure they'd
like to crucify you."

"I daresay they would, but in this world a man can't get everything he
would like. I've wanted two or three pleasures mys