us movements and quiet solicitude contrasting curiously with the
detachment of his manner whilst performing these small services. He was
so altogether business-like and unconcerned that Sara felt not unlike a
child being dressed by a conscientious but entirely disinterested nurse.
When he had fastened the last button of the long coat, which came down
to her heels, he unfurled the umbrella and held it over her.

"Keep close to me, please," he said briefly, nor did he volunteer any
further remark until they had accomplished the journey to the house, and
were standing together in the old-fashioned hall which evidently served
him as a living room.

Here Trent relieved her of the coat, and while she stood warming her
feet at the huge log-fire, blazing half-way up the chimney, he rang for
his servant and issued orders for tea to be brought, as composedly as
though visitors of the feminine persuasion were a matter of everyday
occurrence.

Sara, catching a glimpse of Judson's almost petrified face of
astonishment as he retreated to carry out his master's instructions, and
with a vivid recollection of her last encounter with him, almost laughed
out loud.

"Please sit down," said Trent. "And"--with a glance towards her
feet--"you had better take off those wet shoes."

There was something in his curt manner of giving orders--rather as
though he were a drill-sergeant, Sara reflected--that aroused her to
opposition. She held out her feet towards the blaze of the fire.

"No, thank you," she replied airily. "They'll dry like this."

As she spoke, she glanced up and encountered a sudden flash in his eyes
like the keen flicker of a sword-blade. Without vouchsafing any answer,
he knelt down beside her and began to unlace her shoes, finally drawing
them off and laying them sole upwards, in front of the fire to dry. Then
he passed his hand lightly over her stockinged feet.

"Wringing wet!" he remarked curtly. "Those silk absurdities must come
off as well."

Sara sprang up.

"No!" she said firmly. "They shall not!"

He looked at her, again with that glint of mocking amusement with which
he had first greeted her presence in his summer-house.

"You'd rather have a bad cold?" he suggested.

"Ever so much rather!" retorted Sara hardily.

He gave a short laugh, almost as though he could not help himself, and,
with a shrug of his shoulders, turned and marched out of the room.

Left alone, Sara glanced about her in some surprise