to Dunn to have to stand aloof while Clive
was laughing and chatting and drinking his tea with Ella and her mother,
and of those feelings of annoyance and vexation he made this time a
somewhat ostentatious show.

That his manner of sulky anger and resentment did not go unnoticed by
Deede Dawson he was very sure, but nothing was said at the time.

Next morning Deede Dawson called him while he was busy in the garage and
insisted on his trying to solve another chess problem.

"I haven't managed the other yet," Dunn protested. "It's not too easy to
hit on these key-moves."

"Never mind try this one," Deede Dawson said; and Ella, going out for a
morning stroll with her mother, saw them thus, poring together over the
travelling chess-board.

"They seem busy, don't they?" she remarked. "Father is making quite a
friend of that man."

"I don't like him," declared Mrs. Dawson, quite vigorously for her. "I'm
sure a man with such a lot of hair on his face can't be really nice, and
I thought he was inclined to be rude yesterday."

"Yes," agreed Ella. "Yes, he was. I think Mr. Clive was a little vexed,
though he took no notice, I suppose he couldn't very well."

"I don't like the man at all," Mrs. Dawson repeated. "All that hair,
too. Do you like him?"

"I don't know," Ella answered, and after she and her mother had returned
from their walk she took occasion to find Dunn in the garden and ask him
some trifling question or another.

"You are interested in chess?" she remarked, when he had answered her.

"All problems are interesting till one finds the answer to them," he
replied.

"There's one I know of," she retorted. "I wish you would solve for me."

"Tell me what it is," he said quickly. "Will you?"

She shook her head slightly, but she was watching him very intently from
her clear, candid eyes, and now, as always, her nearness to him, the
infinite appeal he found in her every look and movement, the very
fragrance of her hair, bore him away beyond all purpose and intention.

"Tell me what it is," he said again. "Won't you? Miss Cayley, if you and
I were to trust each other--it's not difficult to see there's something
troubling you."

"Most people have some trouble or another," she answered evasively.

He came a little nearer to her, and instead of the gruff, harsh tones he
habitually used, his voice was singularly pleasant and low as he said:

"People who are in trouble need help, Miss Cayley. Will you let me h