"She was there when I left," Feathers said reluctantly. "She is a very fine golfer."

Marie broke in in a high-pitched voice:

"I asked her to come and stay with me, you know, but she had already accepted this invitation to Scotland. Wasn't it queer the way Chris met her?"

"Very queer."

"I was at school with her; she was my best friend."

"Yes, so she told me, but I knew already--from you."

Marie's too-bright eyes met his.

"And do you like her?" she asked. "I said I thought you would, if you remember, and you were not sure."

He raised his s.h.a.ggy brows.

"Like her? Well--I hardly know. She's good company."

Good company--the very thing that Marie had dreaded to hear.

"I'm not very fond of sporting women," Feathers went on. "They're so restless. Don't you agree, Miss Chester?"

"They were certainly unheard of when I was a girl," she answered severely. "We never wore short skirts and played strenuous games. I think croquet was the fashion when I was Marie's age! I can remember playing in a private tournament with your mother, Marie."

Marie bent and kissed her, laughing.

"That is where I get my stay-at-home, early Victorian instincts from, perhaps," she said rather bitterly.

She went into the hall with Feathers when he left.

"It was so kind of you to send me that white heather," she told him, shyly. "I always wear a piece of it for luck."

A dull flush deepened the bronze of his ugly face.

"I hope it will live up to its reputation," he said. He held out his hand. "When may I see you again? I am staying in London for a week or so, and I haven't anything particular to do."

"Any time--I shall be so glad to see you. Will tomorrow be too soon?" She made the suggestion diffidently. Chris' indifference had made her apprehensive and uncertain of herself. She was terribly afraid of forcing her company where it was not wanted.

"To-morrow by all means!" he answered readily, "Shall we have a day in the country?"

"Oh, how lovely!" Her eyes lit up with delight.

"I'll bring my car." he said. "It's a bit of a bone-shaker, not a first-cla.s.s affair like yours Mrs. Lawless, but it runs well. What time?"

"Any time; as early as you like."

"Ten o'clock then?"

"Yes."

"Good-night."

"Good-night, Mr. Dakers,"

CHAPTER XIII

"I was a sailor, sailing on sweet seas, Trading in singing birds and humming bees.

But now I sail no more before the breeze.

You were a pirate met me on the sea; You spoke, with life behind you, suddenly; You stepped upon my ship, and spoke to me: And while you took my hand and kissed my lips, You sank my ships, you sank my sailing ships."

MARIE sang a little s.n.a.t.c.h of song as she went back to Miss Chester; she had not felt so lighthearted for many a day.

"I'm going into the country with Mr. Dakers to-morrow." she said.

"Think of it--a whole day in the country! Won't it be lovely?"

Miss Chester looked up with shrewd eyes.

"You talk as if you have never had the opportunity before," she said. "The car is always here--you might spend all your time in the country if you chose, Marie."

"I know--I suppose it never occurred to me."

Miss Chester knitted a row without speaking, then she said gently:

"Dear child, do you think Chris would be quite pleased if he knew you were running about London with his friends like this?"

Marie swung round as if she had been struck.

"What do you mean. Aunt Madge?" Her voice was defiant, but the old lady went on insistently without raising her eyes:

"I know things have progressed since I was a girl, but if I were a man I should not care for my wife to have men friends, as you seem to have."

"Chris does not care," said Marie, and she laughed.

"I suppose you are still thinking about Mr. Atkins, Aunt Madge. He was only a boy."

"Do you call Mr. Dakers a boy, too?" Miss Chester asked quietly.

"Of course not." Marie frowned; then all at once she broke into a laugh of sheer amus.e.m.e.nt. "Aunt Madge, you're not suggesting that Mr. Dakers, too, is fond of me? Why, don't you know that he hates women?"

Miss Chester stooped for her ball of wool, which had fallen to the floor. "As a rule, Marie, men are rather selfish, and I cannot imagine a man going out of his way to take any woman whom he hated for a day in the country."

Marie laughed again.