big hall.

"You look badly hipped over something, Thurston," commented the
sportsman presently. "I suppose it's the mine, and would like to offer
my sympathy. Might I recommend a brandy-and-soda, one of those
Cubanos, and confidence? Tom left the bottle handy for you."

In spite of the family failing, or, perhaps, because it was the only
thing he feared, Thurston had been an abstemious man. Now, however, he
emptied one stiff tumbler at a gulp, and the soda frothed in the
second, when he noticed a curious smile, for just a moment, in the eyes
of his companion. The smile vanished immediately, but Thurston had
seen and remembered. It was characteristic of him that, before two
more seconds had passed, the glass crashed into splinters in the grate.

"Quite right!" exclaimed Leslie, nodding. "When one feels as you
evidently do, a little of that sort of consolation is considerably
better than too much. You don't, however, appear to be in a
companionable humor, and perhaps I had better not intrude on you."

During the rest of the afternoon, Thurston saw little of Millicent and
Leslie was much with her.

The weather changed suddenly when at dusk Geoffrey rode home. In
forecast of winter, a bitter breeze sighed across the heather and set
the harsh grasses moaning eerily. The sky was somber overhead; scarred
fell and towering pike had faded to blurs of dingy gray, and the
ghostly whistling of curlew emphasized the emptiness of the darkening
moor. The evening's mood suited Geoffrey's, and he rode slowly with
loose bridle. The bouquet of the brandy had awakened within him a
longing that he dreaded, and though, hitherto, he had been too intent
upon his task to trouble about his character, it was borne in upon him
that he must stand fast now or never. But it was not the thought of
his own future which first appealed to him. Those who had gone before
him had rarely counted consequences when tempted by either wine or
women, and he would have risked that freely. Geoffrey was, however, in
his own eccentric fashion, a just man, and he dared not risk bringing
disaster upon Millicent. So he rode slowly, thinking hard, until the
horse, which seemed affected by its master's restlessness, plunged as a
dark figure rose out of the heather.

"Hallo, is it you, Evans?" asked the rider, with a forced laugh. "I
thought it was the devil. He's abroad to-night."

"Thou'rt wrang, Mr. Geoffrey," answered the gamekeeper. "It's Th