language, English morals--I said morals, George--the spiritual food of
his fathers. Do you ever go to church?"

He did not answer: he was frowning at his boots.

"Neither do I," she said. "Help me up."

His hand shot out, but she did not take it. She leapt to her feet and
jumped the stream, and when he said something in a low voice she put her
fingers to her ears and shook her head, pretending that she could not
hear and smiling pleasantly. Then she beckoned to him, but it was his
turn to shake his head.

"Puss, puss, puss!" she called, twitching her finger at him. "Don't
laugh! Well, I'll come to you." At his side, she looked up solemnly.
"Let us be sensible and go where we needn't shout at each other. Beside
that rock. I want to tell you something."

When they had settled themselves on a cushion of turf, she drew her
knees to her chin and clasped her hands round them, and in that position
she swayed lightly to and fro.

"I think I am going away," she said, and stared at the horizon. For a
space she listened to the chirping of a cheerful insect and the small,
regular noise of Halkett's breathing, but as he made no other sound she
turned sharply and looked at him.

"All right," he said.

She moved impatiently, for that was not what she wished to hear, and,
even if it expressed his feeling, it was the wrong word. He had
roughnesses which almost persuaded her to neglect him.

"Aren't you sorry?"

There was courage in his decision to be truthful. He showed her the full
blue of his eyes, and said "Yes" so simply that she felt compassionate.
"Where?" he added.

"I'm going to be adopted by an uncle," she said boldly.

"You'll like that?"

"I'm tired of the moor."

"You don't fit it. I couldn't tire of it, but it'll be--different when
you've gone."

She consoled him. "I may not go at once."

"How soon?"

"I don't know."

"Are you really going?" he asked and his look pleaded with her for
honesty.

"I shall have to arrange it all with Uncle Alfred."

He straightened himself against the rock, but he said nothing.

"And we're just beginning to be friends," she added sensibly, with the
faintest accent of regret.

At that he stirred again, and "No," he said steadily, "that's not true.
We're not friends--couldn't be. You think I'm a fool, but I can see
you're despising me all the time. I can see that, and I wonder why."

She caught her lip. "Well, George," she began, and thought quickly. "I
have hear