ou're starving. Where's that scamp Clo?"

He turned again to the little girl who had drawn nearer to him for
protection.

She replied, but in so low a tone that Milbanke heard nothing. A moment
later he was enlightened by Asshlin's loud voice.

"Did you ever hear of a thing like that, James?" he exclaimed. "What
would you say to a daughter who rides races on the strand in the dark
of an October evening, with the mist enough to give your horses their
death? 'Pon my word----" His face reddened; then suddenly he paused and
laughed. "After all, what's bred in the bone--eh, James?" he said. "I
believe I'd have done the same myself at fifteen--maybe worse."

He checked himself, laughed again; then sighed. But catching Milbanke's
eye, he threw off the momentary depression, and turned once more to
Nance.

"Tell Hannah we won't wait any longer, like a good child!" he said.
"There's no counting on that scallywag."

As the child went quickly to the door he motioned Milbanke to the
table, and took his own place at its head.

"No ceremony here," he said. "This is Liberty Hall."

Taking up a decanter, he poured some sherry into his friend's glass;
then, filling his own, drank the wine with evident satisfaction.

"Gradual decay is what we're suffering from here, James," he went on.
"Everything in this country is too damned old. The only things in this
house that have stood it are the wine and the silver. The rest--the
woodwork, myself, and the linen--are unsound, as you see."

He laughed again with a shade of sarcasm, and pointed to where a large
hole in the damask table-cloth was only partially concealed by a
splendid salt-cellar of Irish silver.

"Accumulated time is the disease we're suffering from. 'Tisn't the man
who uses his time in this country, but the man who kills it who's
mastered the art of living. Oh, we're a wonderful people, James!"

He slowly drained and slowly refilled his glass.

As he laid down the decanter, the door opened and Nance appeared and
quietly took her place at table. Almost immediately she was followed by
Burke in a black coat and wearing a clean collar.

For a second Milbanke marvelled at the domestic arrangements that could
compress a valet, a butler, and a coachman into one easy-going
personality; the next, his attention was directed to two enormous
dishes which were placed respectively before his host and himself.

"Just hermit's fare, James--the product of the land!" Asshlin
exclai