had gone further
than he intended, when he proposed to spend the winter in Florence.
Moreover, he was very tenacious by nature, and had rarely been seriously
opposed during his short life. Her persistent refusal to tell him the
cause of her deep-rooted dislike exasperated him, while her frank and
careless manner and good-fellowship fascinated him more and more.

"Tell me all about the yacht," she said. "I'm sure she is a beauty,
though you call her an old tub."

"I don't want to talk about yachts," he answered, returning to the
attack in spite of her. "I want to talk about the chances of seeing you
after we part here."

"There aren't any," replied the young girl carelessly. "What is the name
of the yacht?"

"Very commonplace--'Lucy,' that's all. I'll make chances if there are
none--"

"You mustn't say that 'Lucy' is commonplace. That's my mother's name."

"I beg your pardon. I couldn't know that. It always struck me that it
wasn't much of a name for a yacht, you know. That was all I meant. He's
a queer old bird, my father; he always says he took it from the Bride of
Lammermoor, Heaven knows why. But please--I really can't go away and
feel that I'm not to see you again soon. You seem to think that I'm
chaffing. I'm not. I'm very serious. I like you very much, and I don't
see why one should just meet and then go off, and let that be the
end--do you?"

"I don't see why not," exclaimed Clare, hating the unexpected longing
she felt to agree with him, and tell him to come and stay in Florence as
much as he pleased. "Come--it's too cold here. I must be going in."

CHAPTER IX

Brook Johnstone had never been in the habit of observing his sensations
nor of paying any great attention to his actions. He was not at all an
actor, as Clare believed him to be, and the idea that he could ever have
taken pleasure in giving pain would have made him laugh. Possibly, it
would have made him very angry, but it certainly had no foundation at
all in fact. He had been liked, loved, and made much of, not for
anything he had ever taken the trouble to do, but partly for his own
sake, and partly on account of his position. Such charm as he had for
women lay in his frankness, good humour, and simplicity of character.
That he had appeared to be changeable in his affection was merely due to
the fact that he had never been in love. He vaguely recognised the fact
in his inner consciousness, though he would have said that he had been
i