"It will be a blow to her," said Thorold, looking grave. "She tells me that young fellow Jim Paget is on her track again. Coming back, isn't he? He may induce her to listen to him this time." Mrs. Wharnecliffe shook her head. "I wish I could think so, but I'm sure she won't have him. She ought to marry. I think she might develop into a good little wife." There was silence between them for a moment or two. Then Mrs. Wharnecliffe said slowly: "Thorold, have you ever thought that she may be caring for you?" Thorold was just lighting his pipe. He let it slip through his fingers, and fall with a clatter on the ground. "Caring for me," he said, stooping down to pick up his pipe; "what nonsense! I think she may like me better than she did, but she looks upon me as her elderly guardian—offered to come and keep house for me!" His face was a dull red as he raised himself, but Mrs. Wharnecliffe's quick eyes noted his confusion. "There's not much disparity in your ages. You are not elderly, Thorold. You are in the prime of life. I may be wrong. She is childishly jealous of Frances Muir, but, of course, that may be because she likes to come first with you." "It would be wicked," muttered Thorold, "to tie her up to an old fogy like me." "Gentian would not do anything she did not want to do." "But she's in a dangerous state now. She wants a home. She might do anything to get one. I would not take advantage of a child like that for all the world." "Thorold!" Mrs. Wharnecliffe pressed his arm. "You love her!" "I adore her!" he said, with a quick-caught breath, and then he tried to relight his pipe with nervous, trembling fingers. Mrs. Wharnecliffe drew a long sigh. "Well, it has come to you at last," she said; "now don't spoil your life and hers by stupid bashfulness and false modesty. You have a great deal to offer her. A clear, upright, honourable record, a comfortable home, and a love—well, I won't say more on that point, but any girl would be lucky with you for a husband, Thorold. I don't say she is good enough for you, but she's a fascinating little soul, and where she loves, she'll love to distraction. You won't have a dull moment with her, I know that, and I believe she'll develop into something grand and good, by and by." "You've forced my confidence," Thorold said; "respect it and say no more. I'm not in a position to offer anyone a home until I see how the mine is going. And I can't believe, and I don't believe, that she would listen to me for a moment." "Who won't listen to you?" asked a gay voice behind them. It was Gentian, of course. She did not wait for an answer but slipped her arm into Mrs. Wharnecliffe's. "Now let us sally forth," she said, "to see the wonders of the ocean shore."