"Mr. Dakers--I should like to see you married."

He turned his head slowly and looked at her, and she wondered if it was just her imagination that his face paled beneath all its tan as he answered:

"That is very kind of you, Mrs. Lawless. I am afraid I shan't be able to oblige you though."

She laughed a little.

"It's just prejudice," she declared. "_Some_ marriages must be very happy, surely?"

"Let us hope so, at any rate," said Feathers dryly, then he smiled.

"I don't think there are many women in the world who would care to take me for a husband."

"They would if they knew how kind you can be."

Feathers rolled over, resting his elbows on the gra.s.s and his chin in his hands.

"It pleases your ladyship to flatter me," he said.

"I never flatter anyone," Marie answered. "And I wish you would take me seriously sometimes," she added, a trifle offendedly.

Feathers was absently piling up a little heap of tiny twigs and last year's leaves.

"I might be rather a monster if I were serious," he said.

Marie shook her head.

"I don't think so! I think I should like you better! Sometimes now I've got the feeling that you're not really natural with me. No, no, I don't think I quite mean that either! It's so difficult to explain, but sometimes it seems as if--almost as if you were--were trying to keep me at arm's length," she explained haltingly.

"You imagine things," Feathers said.

"I don't think so," she answered quietly. "I know I'm not much of a judge of character or anything like that, but since we've been such friends I've thought about you a good deal, and---"

"I am indeed honored."

She flushed sensitively.

"There! That's what I mean--when you say things like that! It isn't really you that's saying it, is it? I mean--you're not saying what you would really like to say." She laughed nervously. "I explain myself very badly, don't I? But I know in my heart what I mean, really I do."

There was a little silence, then Feathers said gently:

"Don't trouble about me, Mrs. Lawless! I'm not at all a mysterious person, as you seem to be imagining. I'm just an ordinary man--as selfish as most of 'em, and no better than the worst; but ... but I'm very grateful that you've taken me for a friend."

"Chris asked in his last letter if I'd seen you."

"Did he?"

"Yes, he said you had promised to call, but that he did not think you would. He has told me so often that you don't like women."

"I don't like them."

"Perhaps you haven't met the right sort," she hazarded.

"Or perhaps I have," he answered grimly. He laughed, meeting her sympathetic eyes. "No! I'm not one of those romantic chaps with a love story in the past done up with blue ribbons and lavender. If you're trying to pity me on that score I'm sorry--but I don't deserve it."

She looked at him steadily.

"Are you laughing at me, Mr. Dakers?" she asked, in a hurt voice.

Feathers' hand fell over hers as it lay half-buried in the soft gra.s.s, and for a moment his fingers closed about it in a grip that hurt; then he got to his feet.

"Laughing at you! Don't you know me better than that?"

He went over to the car and busied himself at the engine for a moment, and Marie watched him, with chagrined eyes.

She liked him so much, but she understood him so little. She rose reluctantly when presently he called to her that it was time to make a start. She went over and stood beside him.

"You're not angry with me, are you?" she asked hesitatingly.

She thought at first he had not heard, until he said brusquely:

"I'm never angry with you--only with myself."

He picked up her coat from the gra.s.s. "Put this on--you mustn't take cold."

But he made no attempt to help her into it, and there was a little hurt look on her face as she turned away.

She was sure that she had somehow annoyed him, but could not understand in what way. She supposed it must be just her stupidity!

"And where shall we go next time?" she asked, as they neared London on the way home. "Can't we go out again to-morrow, if you are not engaged?"

Feathers did not answer at once; then he said rather stiffly: "Chris may be home."

Marie laughed cynically.

"I don't think that is very likely to happen."

There was a moment's silence, then Feathers said, almost fiercely:

"He ought to come home! It is his duty to come home!"

She did not answer--did not know how to answer. She was conscious of a little feeling of perplexity, but she asked no more questions, and when they were home again she held out her hand.

"Good-bye, Mr. Dakers, and thank you so much."

His deep eyes met hers rather defiantly.

"And what about to-morrow?" he asked.