You
must, you know. You can't be offensive to a man on your own doorstep.
Now can you?"

"Oh, can't I? I seem to remember telling this one never to come near my
`own doorstep' again," snorted Le Sage.

"Never mind. Wait till you hear what he has got to say. You will,
won't you."

By this time she had got both arms round his neck, and was holding it
tight. He looked into her luminous eyes with his own sombre and angry
ones, and somehow the anger seemed to die.

"Very well, dear," he said with an effort, though more gently, and
loosening her hold. "I'll wait and see."

Meanwhile the two horsemen were drawing very near.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

FAREWELL!

Warren it was who broke the awkwardness of the meeting.

"Hullo, Le Sage," he sang out as they dismounted. "I lugged this chap
over to say good-bye to you. He's just going to clear. I told him he
couldn't clear without saying good-bye, just because you had a bit of a
growl at each other."

This in his most breezy way. Le Sage put out a hand to Wyvern, though
not particularly cordially.

"Oh, you're really going, are you?" he said.

"Yes. Day after to-morrow. My sale comes off next week, but I shan't
wait for it."

The air was still and clear, and, upon such, voices travel afar. The
above conversation, taking place at the stables, had been heard by
Lalante, who therefore felt exceedingly friendly towards Warren, whose
words implied that the other would not have come over but for his
persuasion. She knew, of course, that Wyvern would not leave without
managing a farewell meeting between them--just as she knew what her
father did not--that he was on the eve of departure. Yet, here he was,
and he should not leave her that day if she could help it. There was
parting at the end of it, but all its precious hours in between were
theirs.

The anxiety which had at first overclouded her face cleared, as she knew
by the conversation of the three men drawing near the house, that her
father had kept his word. If his tone was somewhat constrained, why
that was only to be expected.

"Well, Miss Lalante," cried Warren, in his breeziest way as she came to
meet them. "I hope we haven't invaded you too unexpectedly."

"Not at all," she answered cordially. "It was good of you to come
over."

In secret Wyvern somewhat resented this way Warren had of using the
girl's own name, even though not omitting the formal prefix. It was
quite unnecessary, and for