inald; it has never been the custom in our family to
keep the girls down at their books after sixteen."

This was true. But the very truth of it made the Doctor more angry. "I
shall take her back with me," he said.

"She doesn't wish to go."

"That makes no difference."

And then Sally "supposed" that it was not his intention to drag her back
"in chains?" Mrs. Lowndes was evidently much displeased with Cousin
Reginald.

The Doctor took Garda to a remote part of the garden. Here he placed
before her in serious words the strong wish he had that she should
return with him to Gracias.

Garda laughed out merrily. Then she came and kissed him. "Don't ask me
to do anything so horribly disagreeable," she said, coaxingly.

"Would it be disagreeable?" asked the Doctor, his voice changing to
pathos.

"Of course. For you're not nice to Lucian, you know you're not; how can
I like that?"

"I will be--nice," said the Doctor, borrowing her word, though the use
of it in that sense was to him like turning a somersault.

"Would you really try?" said Garda. She came behind him, putting her
arms round his neck and resting her head on his shoulder. "You never
could," she said, fondly. And then, as though he were some big
good-natured animal, a magnanimous elephant or bear, she let him feel
the weight of her little dimpled chin.

"I am weak because I have loved you so long, my child. I might insist;
you are my ward. But it seems to me that you ought to care more about
doing a little as we wish, Mrs. Harold agrees with me in thinking this."

"Margaret is _sweet_; I love her dearly. But, do you know"--here she
disengaged herself, and began with a sudden inconsequent industry to
gather flowers--"it's so funny to me that you should think, either of
you, for one moment, that I would leave Lucian now."

"He could come too. A little later." The Doctor was driven to this
concession.

"But I shouldn't see him as I do here, you know I shouldn't. Here we do
quite as we please; no one ever comes to this part of the garden but
ourselves; we might be on a desert island--only it would have to be an
island of flowers."

"And you care more for this than for our wishes?" began the Doctor. Then
he took a lighter tone. "Of course you don't; you will come home with
me, my child; we will start this afternoon." Watching her move about
among the bushes as she gathered her roses, he had fallen back into his
old belief; this young face where to him