Greythorpe thought this clever, since it was the best means of lessening the value of Challoner's opinion that she could use.

"I gather that you put too severe a strain upon his friendship."

"I'm afraid there's a breach between us now, but that is not the point."

"No," said Greythorpe. "In a general way, your reasoning is logical, but I hardly think it applicable to Challoner. He might resent your action; but it would not make him unjust. I presume the man you favour is Captain Sedgwick?"

"He's much the best of the three you have in view."

"Then you know something about the matter? We thought it was secret."

She laughed. "Secrets are not always well kept. I know the other men, and though there is nothing that can be urged against their character, they are plodders, men of routine, without much foresight or enterprise."

"Allowing that you are right, isn't there something to be said for the steady plodder?"

"I daresay he's useful," Mrs. Chudleigh agreed with a touch of scorn.

"But for the vacant post you want a bold determined man who can see ahead."

"To some extent, I must agree. You believe Captain Sedgwick is such a man?"

He felt a certain tempered admiration for her. She made no secret of her aim, though he supposed she must find it embarra.s.sing to plead for her lover, since he did not doubt that she loved Sedgwick. She had courage and cleverness and he listened with close attention while she spoke about the man's exploits and abilities. Then she looked up with an eagerness which somewhat moved him.

"Have I convinced you?" she asked.

Greythorpe smiled. "That Sedgwick is a dashing and intrepid soldier?

Yes. But there are other points to take into account, and the matter does not entirely rest with me. Still, I think if he serves us well, we may find some use for him."

It was a guarded promise and by no means all that she desired, but she knew she must be content with it.

"Then I have accomplished something and will remember the consideration and patience you have shown," she said, and when some of the other guests came in moved away to join them.

In the meanwhile, Millicent had been sitting alone for a few minutes at the opposite end of the hall. Somebody was singing in the adjoining drawing-room, the door of which stood open, and she could see several people gathered about the piano, though she was herself partly secluded by a screen. By and by Lieutenant Walters came in, and as he made his way towards her after looking round she felt tempted to change her place, but could not do so without making her retreat too marked. Now and then he suffered from a relapse, and she felt compa.s.sionate as she noticed the heaviness of his movements and his pinched expression.

Still his eyes had been eager as he searched the room, and this had caused her some alarm, because he had lately shown a noticeable preference for her society. When he stopped he laid his hand, as if for support, on the back of a chair and glanced towards a window that opened into the conservatory.

"I've been hanging about since dinner trying to get hold of you, but you were in too great demand," he said. "Shall we slip out to the seat among the palms yonder for a quiet talk?"

The conservatory looked inviting with the coloured lamps hanging among the flowers and screens of trailing plants throwing their shadows across warm, scented nooks. Walters, however, had framed his question injudiciously, because it implied a mutual desire to escape observation and confidential relations which did not exist.

"I think not," said Millicent. "I may be wanted."

"Mrs. Keith's talking to Challoner and won't ask for you," Walters objected. "Be good-natured; it's quiet yonder. That fellow in the drawing-room can't sing and the piano makes my head ache."

"It really oughtn't to. The girl who's accompanying him plays well, but I'm afraid you're not feeling very fit to-night."

"I'm not; I suppose it's weak, but when I seem to be going back instead of picking up, I get depressed. That's partly why I came for you; you know how to cheer one."

"I feel flattered," Millicent rejoined, smiling. "But you shouldn't be downcast. You're making excellent progress."

"Oh! well," he said irritably, "don't let us talk about my ailments; I'm tired of them. But this light's glaring. Take pity on me and come in among the flowers, where it's quiet and dim."

Millicent was tempted to agree. She liked the man and felt sorry for him; he was frank, rather handsome, and generally a pleasant companion, but she thought their friendship was ripening too fast and was not prepared to see it change to something deeper Indeed, since it was pleasant to be sought after, she feared she had allowed herself to drift too far, and now the time to pull up had come.

"No," she said, "I must stay here."

He looked at her rather hard, for there was decision in her tone and he was not dull. She was very attractive; he liked her thoughtful expression and her gentle firmness. Half-consciously he compared her with the highly polished, clever woman, who had at first fascinated him, and his appreciation of the girl grew stronger. Mrs. Chudleigh, who did not improve upon close acquaintance, had been inclined to leave him alone of late, and though he could not resent this he had an unflattering suspicion that he had somehow been made use of and had served his turn. Miss Graham was different; she was genuine, which was the word that occurred to him, and he was growing fond of her.

"As you wish, of course," he said. "Am I allowed to remain?"

She indicated a place on the corner seat and when he took it began to talk, carefully avoiding any personal topic, but after a time he interrupted her--

"I heard Mrs. Keith say she was going to the Vivians in Durham later.

I suppose she will take you?"

Millicent said she believed so, and he continued: "It's possible I may turn up there."

He watched her closely, but could see nothing that suggested satisfaction.

"Do you know the people?" she inquired.

"I used to know Herbert Vivian, though I haven't seen him for some time. No doubt, if he got a hint he'd ask me down."

"It's a high, bleak place," said Millicent. "We were nearly frozen on our last visit, and I'm afraid you wouldn't find the cold good for you.

Were you not recommended to stay in Devonshire?"

Walters gave her a half-indignant glance. "When that brute of a hill man knocked me out I'd no suspicion how much his shot would cost me.

Anyhow, I'm not going to Devonshire, and I ventured to think you might have been glad to see me at the Vivians'."

"Why should I wish you to do an unwise thing?" Millicent asked.

"That's an evasion," he answered bluntly. "I'll be candid. This place won't be the same after you have gone."

Millicent was silent a moment. She knew he wanted a tacit admission that their acquaintance need not end with her visit to Hazlehurst, but he would be right in attaching some significance to her action if she made it. The man, who had only known her a few weeks, could go no further yet, and he was eminently likeable, but she would not lead him on.

"That," she said, "was very nice of you, but you will soon get used to the change."

"You may," he replied with rather bitter humour.

"After all," said Millicent, "one meets pleasant people here and there, and though one regrets it has to part from them."

Looking at her fixedly, he understood. Her expression was quietly resolute, and he recognized that their friendship must shortly come to an end. The girl knew her mind and had obviously made it up.

"Well," he said in a resigned tone, "you won't be forgotten. I must get back to India as soon as I can."

By and by he went away and Mrs. Keith joined Millicent.

"What have you been saying to Walters?" she asked. "I met him going out, and he looked very crestfallen."

"He hinted that he might follow us to the Vivians' and I suggested that it was too cold a place for him," Millicent answered with a blush.