h varying shade of
Dan's beloved voice, she could not but perceive its change of quality,
slight, but unmistakable, when he spoke to Magda--the sudden deepening
of it--and the unconscious self-betrayal of his glance as it rested
on her. It was a relief when at last he got up and moved off, excusing
himself on the plea that he had some work he must attend to. As he shook
hands with Davilof the eyes of the two men met, hard as steel and as
hostile.

Storran's departure was the signal for the breaking-up of the party.
June returned to the house, while Gillian allowed herself to be carried
off by Coppertop to visit the calves, which were a never-failing source
of interest to him.

Left alone, an awkward pause ensued between Davilof and Magda, backwash
of the obvious clash of antagonism between the two men.

"So!" commented Davilof, at last. "It looks as though there might be
another Raynham episode down here before long."

The colour rushed up into Magda's face.

"Don't you think that remark is in rather bad taste?" she replied icily.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Perhaps it was. But the men who love you get rather beyond considering
the matter of good or bad taste."

She made a petulant gesture.

"Oh, don't begin that old subject again. We've had it all out before.
It's finished."

"It's not finished."

There was a clipped, curt force about the brief denial. The
good-humoured, big-child mood in which Davilof had joyously narrated to
her how he had circumvented the unfortunate Melrose had passed, leaving
the man--turbulent and passionately demanding as of old.

"It's not finished," he repeated. "It never will be--till you're my
wife."

Magda laughed lightly.

"Then I'm afraid it will have to remain unfinished--a
continued-in-our-next kind of thing. For I certainly haven't the least
intention of becoming your wife. Do understand that I _mean_ it. And
please go away. You had no business to come down here at all."

A smouldering fire lit itself in his eyes.

"No!" he said, taking a step nearer her. "No! I'm not going. I came
because I can't bear it any longer without you. Since you went away I've
been half-mad, I think. I can't eat or sleep! I can't even play!"--he
flung out his sensitive musician's hands in a gesture of despair.

Magda glanced at him quickly. It was true. The man looked as though
he had been suffering. She had not noticed it before. His face had
altered--worn a trifle fine; the line fro