u!" she said.

"You envy me?" There was a curious, almost an eager tone in
Deerehurst's voice; but she was too preoccupied to hear it.

"All people are to be envied who have power--and freedom. I get so
tired of myself sometimes--so rebellious against myself! I am always
doing the things I should not do, and failing to do the things I
should. I am hopeless!"

For a space he made no attempt to break in upon her mood; then, very
quietly, he bent forward and looked up into her face.

"What is worrying you?" he asked in a whisper. "Confession really
_is_ very good for the soul!"

For a moment she answered nothing; then, yielding to an impulse, she
met his scrutinising eyes.

"Oh, it's only a letter that won't let itself be written--one of those
abominable letters that one has to write. Talking of it does no good!"

"No good? I am not so sure of that. I believe in talking. Tell me about
it!"

Clodagh laid her hand nervously on the arm of the seat.

"I have been stupid!" she said almost defiantly. "I have overstepped my
allowance, and must ask Mr. Barnard to advance me some money. And--and
I, somehow, hate to do it. Am I not a fool?" She laughed unsteadily,
and turned to look at her companion; but he had drawn back into the
shadow of the seat. "Oh, it's childish! Ridiculous! I am disgusted with
myself!" Her glance again crossed the strip of green lawn to where the
stone satyr stood.

Quite silently Deerehurst bent forward again.

"What is the amount?" he asked softly.

"A thousand pounds."

"And is Barnard such a very great friend?"

Clodagh started.

"No! Oh no! Why?" She turned quickly and looked at him.

"Because I wish to know why it should be Barnard."

There was a long silence, in which she felt her heart beat
uncomfortably fast. A sudden surprise--a sudden confusion--filled her.
Then, through the confusion, she was conscious that Deerehurst was
speaking again.

"Why should you think of Barnard?" he murmured. "Barnard is not a rich
man. To advance you a thousand pounds may possibly inconvenience him;
whereas a man who need not consider ways and means----"

Clodagh sat very still.

"Yes. But I think----"

"And why think?" he spoke calmly, considerately, without a tinge of
disturbing emotion. "Why think? Why write that troublesome letter? Why
ask a favour when, by granting one----"

"Granting one----?"

"Yes. When, by granting a favour, you can make everything smooth. Think
what it would be