crificed herself, or rather had been compelled to do
so, in order that Garvington might be set on his legs. But Lady Agnes
never gave any one the satisfaction of knowing the exact truth. She
moved through the social world like a gentle ghost, fulfilling her
duties admirably, but apparently indifferent to every one and
everything. "Clippin' to look at," said the young men, "but tombs to
talk to. No sport at all." But then the young men did not possess the
key to Lady Agnes Pine's heart. Nor did her husband apparently.

Her voice was very low and musical, and every one felt its charm.
Garvington answered her question as he left the room. "Romeo or no
Romeo, guest or no guest," he said harshly, "I'll shoot any beast who
tries to enter my house. Come on, you fellows. We start in half an hour
for the coverts."

When the men left the room, Miss Greeby came and sat down in a vacant
seat near her hostess. "What did Garvington mean by that last speech?"
she asked with a significant look at Lady Agnes.

"Oh, my dear, when does Garvington ever mean anything?" said the other
woman fretfully. "He is so selfish; he leaves me to do everything."

"Well," drawled Miss Greeby with a pensive look on her masculine
features, "he looked at Agnes when he spoke."

"What do you mean?" demanded Lady Garvington sharply.

Miss Greeby gave a significant laugh. "I notice that Mr. Lambert is not
in the house," she said carelessly. "But some one told me he was near at
hand in the neighborhood. Surely Garvington doesn't mean to shoot him."

"Clara." The hostess sat up very straight, and a spot of color burned on
either sallow cheek. "I am surprised at you. Noel is staying in the
Abbot's Wood Cottage, and indulging in artistic work of some sort. But
he can come and stay here, if he likes. You don't mean to insinuate that
he would climb into the house through a window after dark like a
burglar?"

"That's just what I do mean," retorted Miss Greeby daringly, "and if he
does, Garvington will shoot him. He said so."

"He said nothing of the sort," cried Lady Garvington, angrily rising.

"Well, he meant it. I saw him looking at Agnes. And we know that Sir
Hubert is as jealous as Othello. Garvington is on guard I suppose,
and--"

"Will you hold your tongue?" whispered the mistress of the Manor
furiously, and she would have shaken Miss Greeby, but that she had
borrowed money from her and did not dare to incur her enmity. "Agnes
will hear you; she i