ers. They were both
aware that it was a farce, and that they were playing a part, for
beneath the external ice of formalities the river of their devotion
ran strong--whither they knew not. All that had been made clear a few
nights back. But what will you have? Necessity over-riding their
desires, compelled them along the path of self-denial, and, like wise
folk, they recognised the fact: for there is nothing more painful in
the world than the outburst of hopeless affection.

And so they talked about painting and shooting and what not, till they
reached the grey old Castle towers. Here Harold wanted to bid her
good-bye, but she persuaded him to come in and have some tea, saying
that her father would like to say good-night to him.

Accordingly he went into the vestibule, where there was a light, for
it was getting dusk; and here he found the Squire and Mr. Cossey. As
soon as he entered, Edward Cossey rose, said good-night to the Squire
and Ida, and then passed towards the door, where the Colonel was
standing, rubbing the mud off his shooting boots. As he came, Harold
being slightly ashamed of the business of the shooting match, and very
sorry to have humiliated a man who prided himself so much upon his
skill in a particular branch of sport, held out his hand and said in a
friendly tone:

"Good-night, Mr. Cossey. Next time that we are out shooting together I
expect I shall be nowhere. It was an awful fluke of mine killing those
four birds."

Edward Cossey took no notice of the friendly words or outstretched
hand, but came straight on as though he intended to walk past him.

The Colonel was wondering what it was best to do, for he could not
mistake the meaning of the oversight, when the Squire, who was
sometimes very quick to notice things, spoke in a loud and decided
tone.

"Mr. Cossey," he said, "Colonel Quaritch is offering you his hand."

"I observe that he is," he answered, setting his handsome face, "but I
do not wish to take Colonel Quaritch's hand."

Then came a moment's silence, which the Squire again broke.

"When a gentleman in my house refuses to take the hand of another
gentleman," he said very quietly, "I think that I have a right to ask
the reason for his conduct, which, unless that reason is a very
sufficient one, is almost as much a slight upon me as upon him."

"I think that Colonel Quaritch must know the reason, and will not
press me to explain," said Edward Cossey.

"I know of no reason," r