keep me
long."

"Can you take me?"

"I think not," said Kenwardine, who knew his visit would be attended by
some risk. "For one thing, I'll be occupied all the time, and as I must
get back as soon as possible, may have to travel by uncomfortable boats.
You will be safe with Lucille."

"Oh, yes," Clare agreed with languid resignation. "Still, I would have
liked a change."

Kenwardine showed no sign of yielding and she said nothing more. She had
chosen to live with him, and although she had not known all that the
choice implied, must obey his wishes. For all that, she longed to get
away. It had cost her more than she thought to refuse Dick, and she felt
that something mysterious and disturbing was going on. Kenwardine's
carelessness had not deceived her; she had watched him when he was off
his guard and knew that he was anxious.

"You don't like Santa Brigida?" he suggested. "Well, if things go as I
hope, I may soon be able to sell out my business interests and leave the
country. Would that please you?"

Clare's eyes sparkled with satisfaction. Now there was a prospect of its
ending, she could allow herself to admit how repugnant the life she led
had grown. She had hated the gambling, and although this had stopped, the
mystery and hidden intrigue that followed it were worse. If her father
gave it all up, they need no longer be outcasts, and she could live as an
English girl ought to do. Besides, it would be easier to forget Dick
Brandon when she went away.

"Would we go back to England?" she asked eagerly.

"I hardly think that would be possible," Kenwardine replied. "We might,
however, fix upon one of the quieter cities near the Atlantic coast of
America. I know two or three that are not too big and are rather
old-fashioned, with something of the charm of the Colonial days, where I
think you might find friends that would suit your fastidious taste."

Clare tried to look content. Of late, she had longed for the peaceful,
well-ordered life of the English country towns, but it seemed there was
some reason they could not go home.

"Any place would be better than Santa Brigida," she said. "But I must
leave you to your letters. I am going out to buy some things."

The sun was hot when she left the patio, but there was a strip of shade
on one side of the street and she kept close to the wall, until turning a
corner, she entered a blaze of light. The glare from the pavement and
white houses was dazzling and she sto