d afforded him little pleasure. He
must come to some definite understanding with Meg. His thoughts had
been all centred on the plan of sending her home, getting her away from
the atmosphere which had so strong a hold over her imagination.
Perhaps if she was back in England, she might be able to put Michael
and his ideas out of her thoughts. He had no wish to be disloyal to
his friend, or to give him no chance to defend himself; but he had to
admit that he was very thankful that it was Michael himself who had
insisted that there was to be no recognized engagement between them.
Had he at the time had any motive for insisting on the fact? That was
an idea; it had not occurred to him before.

He turned to Meg and said abruptly. "What about going home, Meg? It's
getting too hot for this sort of thing--the Valley is stifling."

"What do you mean?"

"It's too hot--the year's advancing."

Meg tried to speak calmly.

"Don't treat me like a naughty child, Freddy. If it gets hotter than
the Inferno I won't leave the place until I hear from Michael." She
was not going to be a Lampton in one respect and not in another. A
horse with the staggers was not in it with a mulish Lampton.

"If you hear from him, or find undeniable proofs that the story is
true, will you go then?"

"Yes, when Michael tells me with his own lips, or I see it in his own
handwriting, or I myself am convinced that Millicent was with him, I
will meekly obey you. You can rely upon the Lampton pride. It won't
fail me."

"Right you are, old girl! That's all I'll ask." Freddy bent down and
pressed her head to his breast. "I hope to God that will never be, old
lady, you know that."

Freddy's little touch of tenderness was the last straw. It was too
much for Meg. She turned round and hid her face against his shoulder.
A very fountain of weeping welled up.

"You dear, blessed old thing! I've been a brute, a perfect brute, but
I love him awfully! Oh, Freddy, you don't know how much I can love,
and you hurt me dreadfully!" She had sobbed out the words. The fiery
Lampton was now a sorrowing, heartsick girl, hungering for her lover's
caresses. Freddy's gentleness had called up a thousand wants.

Freddy knew that affection was what she needed, but he was a bad hand
at any show of brotherly emotion. The Lampton men were fine lovers; no
woman had ever found them wanting in the art. But it was part of their
tradition to suppress all outward s