is eyes? He drops her hand, and turning hastily
away, goes down the corridor, and is beyond recall before she can muster
courage to say anything to him kind or forgiving.

Going into the yard to order the dog-cart to take him to the station to
catch the up-train, he encounters Stephen Gower (who, by-the-by, had
gone to encounter him), on his knees before a kennel, fondling a
two-months old setter pup.

This pup is a baby belonging to one of Roger's favorite setters, and is,
therefore, a special pet of his.

"Put that dog down," he says, insolently.

"Why?" says Stephen, just as insolently.

"Because petting is bad for young things, and because _I_ wish it."

"Oh, nonsense!" says Stephen, rather cavalierly, continuing his
attention to the dog.

"Look here," says Dare, furiously, "it has nothing to do with the dog,
you will understand--_nothing_--but I want to tell you now what I think
of you, you low, mean, contemptible--"

Gower literally gasps for breath. Letting go the dog, he rises to his
feet, and coming close to Roger, says, passionately,

"What do you mean by that?"

"Have you not been making love to my cousin behind my back? Deny that if
you can!"

"I won't deny that I love her, certainly."

"Will you deny anything else? That you have acted as few men would have
done. Without honor--without--"

This of course puts an end to even enforced civility; Mr. Gower
instantly and most naturally strikes out with the most exemplary vigor,
and presently these two most mistaken young men are clasped in an
embrace, warm indeed, but hardly so loving as one might desire.

How things might have ended, whether with death or only with bloody
noses, no one now can tell, because Sir Mark Gore, coming on the scene
just at this awful moment, seizes Roger by the shoulder and by sheer
force of arm and will, forces him back from his adversary.

"What do you two boys mean by this burst of insanity?" he says, angrily.
"Such an example to the young fellows in the yard; you ought to be
ashamed of yourself, Roger." This is plainly meant for two stable boys
in the distance, who, with open mouths, are staring at the combatants,
and have been plainly enjoying themselves to the utmost.

"Well, I'm not," says Roger, doggedly, who is still thirsting for blood.
"If shame should attach itself to any one, it should be to that fellow
there," pointing contemptuously to Gower.

"Well, I forbid any more of this," says Sir Mark. "Stop i