an estate there, the home of my ancestors, which I am going to
sell. I am the last of the Setons, fortunately, and I am going to smash
the family tree, sell the heirlooms, and burn the family records!"

"I shouldn't if I were you," Aynesworth said quietly. "You are a young
man yet. You may come back to your own!"

"Meaning?"

"You may smoke enough cigarettes to become actually humanized! One can
never tell! I have known men proclaim themselves cynics for life, who
have been making idiots of themselves with their own children in five
years."

Wingrave nodded gravely.

"True enough," he answered. "But the one thing which no man can mistake
is death. Listen, and I will quote some poetry to you. I think--it is
something like this:--

"'The rivers of ice may melt, and the mountains crumble into dust, but
the heart of a dead man is like the seed plot unsown. Green grass
shall not sprout there, nor flowers blossom, nor shall all the ages of
eternity show there any sign of life.'"

He spoke as though he had been reading from a child's Primer. When he
had finished, he replaced his cigarette between his teeth.

"I am a dead man," he said calmly. "Dead as the wildest seed plot in
God's most forgotten acre!"

LORD OF THE MANOR

She came slowly towards the two men through the overgrown rose garden,
a thin, pale, wild-eyed child, dressed in most uncompromising black. It
was a matter of doubt whether she was the more surprised to see them, or
they to find anyone else, in this wilderness of desolation. They stood
face to face with her upon the narrow path.

"Have you lost your way?" she inquired politely.

"We were told," Aynesworth answered, "that there was a gate in the wall
there, through which we could get on to the cliffs."

"Who told you so?" she asked.

"The housekeeper," Aynesworth answered. "I will not attempt to pronounce
her name."

"Mrs. Tresfarwin," the child said. "It is not really difficult. But she
had no right to send you through here! It is all private, you know!"

"And you?" Aynesworth asked with a smile, "you have permission, I
suppose?"

"Yes," she answered. "I have lived here all my life. I go where I
please. Have you seen the pictures?"

"We have just been looking at them," Aynesworth answered.

"Aren't they beautiful?" she exclaimed. "I--oh!"

She sat suddenly down on a rough wooden seat and commenced to cry. For
the first time Wingrave looked at her with some apparent interest.