told him in derision.

"I daresay. I'm a lazy beggar. Always shirking when I can."

"Lady Jim isn't lazy."

"Di does her duty even when it isn't pleasant. Pity more of us don't."

"Meaning that it is my unpleasant duty to marry Mr. Verinder's money?"

"Hang Verinder and his money. I'm no end glad you can't stand him. Fact
is, we didn't quite know how bad he was when we asked him to join us."

"What then?"

"Well, sure your money isn't on the wrong horse, Moya? Mind, I don't say
it is. I ask."

"If you mean Mr. Kilmeny, there hasn't been a word between us you
couldn't have heard yourself," the girl told him stiffly.

"If my memory serves it didn't use to be so much a matter of words. What
about your feelings? Di fancies----"

"Of course she does. She's always fancying. That's the business of a
chaperone. It's perfectly absurd," Moya flung back hotly.

"Glad you see it that way. It wouldn't do, of course."

She looked directly at him, a challenge in her stormy eyes. "The whole
thing is ridiculous. The man hasn't given me a second thought. If you're
going to warn anyone, it ought to be Joyce."

Lord Farquhar looked straight at her. "Joyce has her eyes wide open. She
can look out for herself."

"And I can't?"

"No, you can't--not when your feelings are involved. You're too
impulsive, too generous."

"It's all a storm in a teacup. I've only met him three times to talk
with. He's been friendly--no more. But if he and I wanted to--not that
there's the ghost of a chance of it, but if we did--I don't see why it
wouldn't do."

"Any number of reasons why it wouldn't. Marriage nowadays isn't entirely
a matter of sentiment. You're an Englishwoman. He's an American, and
will be to the end of the chapter."

"I'm not English; I'm Irish--and the Irish make the best Americans," she
told him sturdily.

Farquhar ignored her protest. "His ways of thinking are foreign to
yours, so are his habits of life. You're a delightful rebel, my dear,
but you've got to come to heel in the end. All girls do. It's a rule of
the game, and you'll have to accept it. No matter how captivating your
highwayman may be--and upon my word I admire him tremendously--he is not
your kind. He makes his own laws, and yours are made for you."

"You're making one for me now, aren't you?" she demanded rebelliously.

"Let's not put it so strong as that. I'm trying to persuade you to
something of which you are fully persuaded already."

"I'm not