said.
'And even Prim confessed to me once that you do occasionally
make mistakes.'

'I do not in this,' said he, very gravely. 'Yet there is no
particular reason why you should believe me. Miss Kennedy--you
cannot continue this pastime, and keep yourself.'

'What do you mean?' she said quickly.

'You cannot remain just what you are.'

'Mr. Falkirk thinks there is room for improvement,' said Wych
Hazel, with some coldness; 'but your words seem to point the
other way. Perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me at once
all that you think it needful I should hear in the connexion.'

'You need not take that tone,' he said; 'but perhaps I _must_
displease you. Miss Kennedy, I have always thought of you as
one who would never permit a liberty to be taken with her.'

'I am happy that we agree for once,' she said, with a lift of
the eyebrows and a voice to match. 'It is precisely the way in
which I have always thought of myself.'

'Follow that out!' said he half laughing, and at the same time
clasping a little closer the hand he held.

'Well--I have followed it out all my life. I never do, Mr.
Rollo.'

'Not knowingly. But-- How shall I tell you!' said he, in a sort
of despair. And the old horse found it was necessary for him
to move on.

'It must be said!' he broke out again, 'and there is no one
but me to do it. Miss Hazel, you allowed liberties to be taken
with you to-night.'

The little hand he was holding shrank perceptibly. Not
twitching itself away, but as it were withdrawing itself into
itself, and away from him. Otherwise she sat absolutely still.

'Unconsciously,' he went on. 'You did not know it. The
pleasure of the play kept you from knowing what it implied.'

'_Allowed_, did you say?'

'Look back and think,' said he, calmly.

'As if they could, without my knowing it!' she exclaimed. 'As
if they would!'--

'Look back and think,' he said.

'Well,' said Wych Hazel, 'look back and think! And I find the
most extreme deference, and--nothing else that touches the
question.'

He drew a sort of short, impatient sigh, and waited a moment.
Then leaned over towards her again and spoke slowly.

'Six weeks ago,' he said, 'two little hands would not come
near enough to my shoulder to take the kitten from it. And I
loved them for the distance they kept.'

The girl drew suddenly back, freeing her hand now with a
swiftness that told of a deep hurt somewhere. For a moment she
did not speak--then only a br