“Arthur is very keen on my marrying him,” she said. “And really, I’m not averse – at least, I don’t think so.”

“That is the worst of being a great heiress,” he bantered.

“I wonder?” Her brow wrinkled in a frown. “And am I a great heiress?”

He stopped and looked at her in surprise.

“Aren’t you?”

He seemed so shocked that she laughed.

“I don’t know; my uncle left me a lot of money years and years ago. I don’t know how much – Arthur has managed my estate for years. I have all the money I need.”

“Then don’t grouse!” he said crudely, and she laughed again.

“I suppose most girls in my position have their marriages arranged in the way mine has been arranged, and until quite recently I have accepted the idea as part of the inevitable.”

“And why have you changed your mind now?” he asked bluntly, and saw the pink come into her face.

“I don’t know.”

Her answer was very short, almost brusque.

And then she saw the look in his eyes – the infinite yearning, the hopelessness of them. And in a flash there came to her a knowledge of herself.

For some reason which she could not understand she became of a sudden breathless, and almost found a difficulty in speaking. She felt that the thump and thud of her heart must be audible to his ears, and strove desperately to recover her balance. Vividly before her eyes came the picture of her fiancé, the thin, irritable young man – the weakling with all that man needed in his hands, save manhood. A pitiable, nerve-racked creature, now pleading, now bullying – oblivious of the impression he made on the woman who was to share his life. And from this mental figure of him her eyes moved mechanically to the man by her side; calm, serene, radiant in his strength and self-reliance.

Ten minutes later she was walking back to Willow House, and in her heart she struggled with a problem that seemed well-nigh insoluble.

Dick Alford, making his slow progress homeward, saw the lank figure of his brother waiting at the end of the elm drive.

The wind flapped the skirts of his long frock-coat; standing, he stooped slightly and had a trick of thrusting forward his head, which gave him the appearance of a big, ungainly bird. His face was dark with anger, Dick saw as he came up with him.

“I deputise many duties to you, Richard, but I’ll do my own love-making, understand that!”

The blood came into Dick Alford’s face, but he showed no other sign of his hurt or anger.

“I will not have it – you understand?” Lord Chelford’s voice was shrill with childish fury. “I will not have you interfering in my private affairs. You sent one girl away from me, you shall not take Leslie!”

“I am not–” began his brother hotly.