o him unabashed.

Sir Beverley got heavily to his feet and took him by the shoulder. "Who
is that woman, Piers?" he said, regarding him piercingly.

Piers' forehead was instantly drawn by a quick frown. He stood passive,
but there was a suggestion of resistance about him notwithstanding.

"Whom do you mean, sir?" he said. "What woman?"

"You know very well who I mean," snarled Sir Beverley. "Come, I'll have
none of your damn' nonsense. Never have stood it and never will. Who was
that white-faced cat that got in my way this afternoon and helped you to
a thrashing? Eh, Piers? Who was she, I say? Who was she?"

Piers made a sharp involuntary movement of the hands, and as swiftly
restrained himself. He looked his grandfather full in the face.

"Ask me after dinner, sir," he said, speaking with something of an
effort, "and I'll tell you all I know."

"You'll tell me now!" declared Sir Beverley, shaking the shoulder he
gripped with savage impatience.

But Piers put up a quick hand and stopped him. "No, sir, not now. Come
and dine first! I've no mind to go dinnerless to bed. Come, sir, don't
badger me!" He smiled suddenly and very winningly into the stern grey
eyes. "There's all the evening before us, and I shan't shirk."

He drew the bony old hand away from his shoulder, and pulled it
through his arm.

"I suppose you think you're irresistible," grumbled Sir Beverley. "I
don't know why I put up with you; on my soul, I don't, you impudent
young dog!"

Piers laughed. "Let's do one thing at a time anyway, and I'm ravenous for
dinner. So must you be. Come along! Let's trot in and have it!"

He had his way. Sir Beverley went with him, though half against his will.
They entered the dining-room still linked together, and a woman's face
smiled down upon them from a picture-frame on the wall with a smile
half-sad, half-mocking--such a smile as even at that moment curved Piers'
lips, belying the reckless gaiety of his eyes.

They dined in complete amicability. Piers had plenty to say at all times,
and he showed himself completely at his ease. He was the only person in
the world who ever was so in Sir Beverley's presence. He even now and
then succeeded in provoking a sardonic laugh from his grandfather. His
own laughter was boyishly spontaneous.

But at the end of the meal, when wine was placed upon the table, he
suddenly ceased his careless chatter, and leaned forward with his dark
eyes full upon Sir Beverley's face.