t looked, down in the valley.

"It's nothing but a farmhouse, of course," he said. "No pretensions to
architecture or anything of that sort, of course, but it's rather a
comfortable old place."

"I think it is perfectly charming," the girl said. "Do you live there
all alone? You have sisters perhaps?"

He shook his head.

"No such luck!" he answered. "Mine is entirely a bachelor establishment.
A great part of the time I am alone. Just now I have a pal staying with
me--awfully decent chap, from Devonshire."

She was certainly silent for a moment. He fancied too that there was a
change in her face.

"From Devonshire!" she repeated, with a carelessness which, if it was
not natural, was exceedingly well assumed. "I believe I knew some people
once who came from there. What is your friend's name, Sir George?"

He turned slowly towards her.

"Andrew Pelham!" he said quietly. "He comes from a place called
Raynesworth."

"He is staying here now--with you?"

"Yes," he answered gravely.

It was not his fancy this time. Of that he felt sure. Her face for the
moment had been the color of chalk--a little exclamation had been
strangled upon her lips. She shot a quick glance at him. He met it
steadily.

"You know the name?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"The name--yes," she answered, "but not the person. A very old friend
of mine was called Andrew Pelham, but he was an American, and he has
never been in England. It startled me, though, to hear the exact name
from you."

She was herself again. Her explanation was carelessly given. It sounded
even convincing, but Duncombe himself was not convinced. He knew that
she wanted him to be. He felt her eyes seeking his, studying his face.
Perhaps she was only anxious that he should not misunderstand.

"George, are you ready?" his host called out. "We're going to take
Smith's pastures."

"Quite!" Duncombe answered. "Until this evening, Miss Fielding."

"You are dining at Runton Place?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he answered. "Will you tell me all about your Andrew Pelham?"

She raised her eyes to his and smiled.

"Do you think that you would be interested?" she asked.

"You know that I should," he answered quietly.

For a time he shot badly. Then he felt that his host's eye was upon him,
and pulled himself together. But he was never at his best. He felt that
the whole world of his sensations had been suddenly disturbed. It was
impossible that there could be any co