ad, and stared up through the
beech boughs to the cloudless evening sky.

"I want you first of all to remember," he said, "that what I said a
little while ago I meant--and shall mean for all time. I will never do
anything, Chirpy, against your will."

He spoke deliberately. He was puffing the smoke upward in long spirals.

"That is quite understood, is it?" he asked, as she did not speak.

"I think so," said Ernestine slowly.

"I want you to be quite sure," he said. "Otherwise, what I am going to
say may startle you."

"Don't frighten me!" she begged, in a whisper.

"My dear child, I sha'n't frighten you," he rejoined. "You may frighten
yourself. That is what I am trying to guard against."

Her laugh had a piteous quiver in it.

"You think me very young and foolish, don't you?" she said.

He sat up and looked at her.

"I think," he said, "that you stand in very serious need of someone to
look after you."

She made a slight, impatient movement.

"Why go over old ground? If you really have any definite suggestion to
make, why not make it?"

Rivington clasped his hands about his knees. He continued to look at her
speculatively, his pipe between his teeth.

"Look here, Chirpy," he said, after a moment, "I can't help thinking
that you would be better off and a good deal happier if you married."

"If I--married!" Her eyes flashed startled interrogation at him. "If
I--married!" she repeated almost fiercely. "I would rather die!"

"I didn't suggest that you should marry Dinghra," he pointed out mildly.
"He is not the only man in the world."

The hot colour rushed up over her face.

"He is the only one that ever wanted me," she said, in a muffled tone.

"Quite sure of that?" said Rivington.

She did not answer him. She was playing nervously with a straw that she
had pulled from the floor of the caravan. Her eyes were downcast.

"What about me?" said Rivington. "Think you could put up with me as a
husband?"

She shook her head in silence.

"Why not?" he said gently.

Again she shook her head.

He knelt up suddenly beside her, discarding his pipe, and laid his hand
on hers.

"Tell me why not," he said.

A little tremor went through her at his touch. She did not raise her
eyes.

"It wouldn't do," she said, her voice very low.

"You don't like me?" he questioned.

"Yes; I like you. It isn't that."

"Then--what is it, Chirpy? I believe you are afraid of me," he said half
quizzically.

"I'm