anaged to keep his face as steady as his voice, and ended
by growing so interested in the play that he forgot Patsy altogether.
Being infinitely more subtle than he, Patsy knew and resented this, and
it was only her cheek rubbing softly to and fro against his shoulder
that made him gasp and fail in the middle of a great harangue.

At which Patsy smiled well-contented. She did not know what she wanted,
exactly, but of this she was certain, that whatever it might be, she
wanted it very badly.

The most curious thing was that occasionally she felt very angry with
Stair, without being able to give a reason for her anger. The feeling
passed in a flash and she saw what she called the "monumental Stair"
again erected on a pedestal and knew that she had been cross with him
because she wished him a little less "monumental." She did not blame
herself in the least nor recall that Stair was only keeping his pledged
and plighted word.

"I can't slap him as I used to do Louis Raincy. He is too big and too
solemn. He would think it part of the treatment and only set his lips
the firmer. But oh! (clenching her fists) how I wish I could!"

And indeed it might have helped matters.

The day sped on. Dinner was an outdoor meal. Stair carried it from the
back door of the tower down to a little hidden cove where sea-pinks and
prickly blue holly grew right down to the edge of the sand. Patsy served
and they talked merrily. Though a famous "runner" of all manner of
Hollands and Bordeaux, Stair tasted nothing except the water from the
spring which he had himself drawn up clear and cold from the well in the
courtyard--the well that had been made by the father of Patrick Heron,
long before the time of the Raiders from the Hills.

Afterwards they stretched themselves out and chatted, making each
other's acquaintance, and deepening their mutual experiences. Patsy
could now unseal her treasured tales. She spoke of Eitel the Prince, and
Stair first blushed crimson and then went pale with desire to wring that
well-nigh regal neck. He could forgive a great deal to the Princess,
however, because she was acting as she thought best for Julian Wemyss's
niece. And of course Patsy did deserve the best. Yet she had chosen the
greatest detrimental of them all. However, he was a good watch-dog, and
would guard her well.

Louis Raincy he had less patience with. Why should any man slight Patsy,
make love to another woman, and then come whining to be forgiv