with Richard Pinckney.

She rose to her feet and Silas rose also, throwing away the end of his
cigarette.

"Going into the house?" said he.

"Yes!"

"Well, you'll be off to-morrow morning, and I won't see you, for I have to
be out early, but I'll see you in Charleston, though not at Vernons maybe,
for I'm not in love with Richard Pinckney, and I don't care much for
visiting his house. But I'll see you somewhere, sure."

"Good-bye," said she holding out her hand. He took it, held it, and then,
all of a sudden, she found herself in his arms.

Helpless as a child, in his arms and smothered with kisses. He kissed her
on the mouth, on the forehead, on the chin, and with a last kiss on the
mouth that made her feel as though her life were going from her, he
vanished. Vanished amidst the bushes whilst she stood, tottering, dazed,
breathless, outraged, yet--in some extraordinary way not angry. Pulled
between tears and laughter, resentment, and a strange new feeling suddenly
born in her from his burning lips, and the strength that had held her for
a moment to itself.

In one moment, and as though with the stroke of a sword, Silas had cut
down the barrier that had divided her from the reality of things. He had
kissed away her childhood.

Then throwing out her hands as though pushing away some presence that was
surrounding her, she ran to the house. In the hall she sat down for a
moment to recover herself before going into the drawing room, where Miss
Pinckney and the Colonel were closing the book which held for them the
people and the places they had known in youth, and between its leaves who
knows what old remembrances, like the withered flower that has once formed
part of a summer's day.

CHAPTER IV

They started at ten o'clock next morning for Charleston, the Colonel
standing on the house steps and waving his hand to them as they drove off.
Silas was nowhere to be seen, he had gone out before breakfast, so the
butler said, and had not returned. Miss Pinckney resented this casual
treatment.

"He ought to have been here to bid us good-bye," said she, as they cleared
the avenue. "He's got the name for being a mad creature, but even mad
creatures may show common courtesy. I'm sure I don't know where he gets
his manners from unless it's his mother's lot, same place as he got his
good looks."

"Why do you say he's mad?" asked Phyl.

"Because he is. Not exactly mad, maybe, but eccentric, he swum Charleston
ha