th all her strength and speed for home.

Memories ran with her strangely, and brought back that day when she had
been hotly chased by Mrs. Brent's big bull, and she remembered how,
through all his fears for her, Rupert had laughed as though he would
never stop. She laughed in recollection, but more in fear. The bull had
snorted, his hoofs had thundered after her, as these feet were
thundering now.

"But this is the tinker, the tinker!" her mind cried in terror, and
overcome by her quickened breathing, by some sense of the inevitable in
this affair, she stumbled as she ran. She saved herself, but a hand
caught at her wrist and some one uttered a sound of satisfaction.

She did not struggle, but she wondered why God had made woman's strength
so disproportionate to man's, and looking up, she saw that it was George
Halkett who held her. At the same moment he would have loosed her hand,
but she clung to his because she was trembling fiercely.

"Oh, George," she said, "it's you! And I thought it was some one
horrid!"

She could not see him blush. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. She gleamed, in
the starlight, as he had seen pale rocks gleaming on such a night, but
she felt like the warm flesh she was, and the oval of her face was plain
to him; he thought he could see the fear leaving her widely-opened eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said again, and made an awkward movement. "I
thought--I--Wouldn't you like to sit down? There's a stone here."

"It's the one I fell against!" She dropped on to it and laughed. "You
weren't there, were you, years and years ago, when the bull chased me?
That red bull of Mrs. Brent's? He was old and cross. No, of course you
weren't."

"I remember the beast. He had a broken horn."

"Yes. Just a stump. It made him frightful. I dream about him now. And
when you were running after me--"

He broke in with a muffled exclamation and shifted from one foot to the
other like a chidden child. "I'm sorry," he said again, and muttered,
"Fool!" as he bent towards her. "Did you hurt yourself against that
stone? Are you all right? You've only slippers on."

"I've nearly stopped shaking," she said practically. "And it doesn't
matter. You didn't mean to do it. I must go home. Rupert is waiting for
me."

His voice was humble. "I don't believe I've spoken to you since that day
in the hollow."

She remembered that occasion and the curious moment when she felt his
eyes on her, and she was reminded that though he had not bee