id. "You--I must say it again--can't know anything about me. You
have woven fancies about that photograph, but you must recognise that
I'm not the girl you have, it seems, created out of them. In all
probability she's wholly unreal, unnatural, visionary." She contrived
to smile, for she was recovering her composure. "Perhaps it's easy
when one has imagination to endow a person with qualities and graces
that could never belong to them. It must be easy"--and though she was
unconscious of it, there was a trace of bitterness in her
voice--"because I know I could do it myself."

Again the man held his hands out. "Then," he said simply, "won't you
try? If you can only feel sure that the person has them it's possible
that he could acquire one or two."

Agatha drew back, disregarding this. "Then I've changed ever so much
since that photograph was taken."

Wyllard admitted it. "Yes," he said, "I recognised that; you were a
little immature then. I know that now--but all the graciousness and
sweetness in you has grown and ripened. What is more, it has grown
just as I seemed to know it would do. I saw that clearly the day we
met beside the stepping-stones. I would have asked you to marry me in
England only Gregory stood in the way."

Then the colour ebbed suddenly out of the girl's face as she remembered.

"Gregory," she said in a strained voice, "stands in the way still. I
didn't send him away altogether. I'm not sure I made that clear."

Wyllard started, but he stood very still again for a moment or two.

"I wonder," he said, "if there's anything significant in the fact that
you gave me that reason last? He failed you in some way?"

"I'm not sure that I haven't failed him; but I can't go into that."

Again Wyllard stood silent awhile. Then he turned to her with the
signs of a strong restraint in his face.

"Gregory," he said, "is a friend of mine; there is, at least, one very
good reason why I should remember it, but it seems that somehow he
hadn't the wit to keep you. Well, I can only wait in the meanwhile,
but when the time seems ripe I shall ask you again. Until then you
have my promise that I will not say another word that could distress
you. Perhaps I had better take you back to Mrs. Hastings now."

Agatha turned away, and they walked back together silently through the
bluff.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE SUMMONS.

Mrs. Hastings was standing beside her waggon in the gathering dusk when
Agath