ertainly
open."

"Then I fancy that it has been open all night," I declared, "for to the
best of my belief no one has passed through it save yourself. May I
walk with you back to the house, Lady Angela? There is something which
I should very much like to ask you."

She replaced her hat, which she had been carrying in her hand. I stood
watching her deft white fingers flashing amongst the thick silky coils
of her hair. The extreme slimness of her figure seemed accentuated by
her backward poise. Yet perhaps I had never before properly appreciated
its perfect gracefulness.

"I was going farther along the cliffs," she said, "but I will walk some
of the way back with you. One minute."

She stood on the extreme edge, and, shading her eyes with her hand, she
looked up and down the broad expanse of sand--a great untenanted
wilderness. I wondered for whom or what she was looking, but I asked no
question. In a few moments she rejoined me, and we turned inland.

"Well," she said, "what is it that you wish to say?"

"Lady Angela," I began, "a few weeks ago there was no one whose
prospects were less hopeful than mine. Thanks to your father and
Colonel Ray all that is changed. To-day I have a position I am proud
of, and important work. Yet I cannot help always remembering this: I am
holding a post which you warned me against accepting."

"Well?"

"I am very curious," I said. "I have never understood your warning. I
believe that you were in earnest. Was it that you believed me incapable
or untrustworthy, or--"

"You appear to me," she murmured, "to be rather a curious person."

I bent forward and looked into her face. There was in her wonderful
eyes a glint of laughter which became her well. She walked with slow
graceful ease, her hands behind her, her head almost on a level with my
own. I found myself studying her with a new pleasure. Then our eyes
met, and I looked away, momentarily confused. Was it my fancy, or was
there a certain measure of rebuke in her cool surprise, a faint
indication of her desire that I should remember that she was the Lady
Angela Harberly, and I her father's secretary? I bit my lip. She
should not catch me offending again, I determined.

"You must forgive me," I said stiffly, "but your warning seemed a little
singular. If you do not choose to gratify my curiosity, it is of no
consequence."

"Since you disregarded it," she remarked, lifting her dress from the
dew-laden grass on to which we had