Her petition to Gaston to keep near her was made in a very different spirit to that of childish quarrelling. On the road back from La Delivrande to Langrune it had come to pass that the walking party, following a natural law, broke up into couples, and that Dinah, unprotected by Marjorie or by Geff, found herself alone with Lord Rex Basire. Being, for his age, a very thorough man of the world, Lord Rex uttered no word at which Mrs. Arbuthnot, or any sensible woman, could take umbrage. But his manner, his tones, his looks, were eloquent with a feeling which, to her straightforward, rustic perception of things, constituted an offence. In the matter of admiration, Dinah, as I have said, was neither prude nor Puritan. She knew the greatness of her gift. It was an everyday experience to see heads turn wherever she walked upon the earth, and, being a quite natural and single-hearted daughter of the common Mother, such acknowledgment of her beauty had never yet been repugnant to her. But the admiration covertly expressed by Rex Basire as they sauntered slowly through chequered light and shadow back to Langrune, was of another nature. Instinct warned Dinah that, if she were an unmarried girl, she might well read on this foolish young man’s face and in his manner signs of love. And the warning, to Gaston Arbuthnot’s wife, was, in itself, a humiliation. She was unacquainted with the weapons by means of which differently nurtured women parry equivocal attention. Save from Linda Thorne’s lips to-night she had never heard the term ‘Platonic.’ Geoffrey was her only friend. Of men like Lord Rex Basire she knew nothing. To gaze and hint and sigh after this tormenting fashion might, she thought, be a received habit among young officers of his rank. And the torment would soon be over--if Gaston would only keep near her on board the _Princess_! Once safely back in Guernsey, and Dinah felt she could take absolute care of herself for the future. There should be no more lingering afternoon visits, no more instruction in wool-work for Lord Rex Basire. Of the lesson learnt to-day, one paragraph, at least, was clear, should be reduced to practice before another twenty-four hours went by. If Gaston would only keep near her in the interval! But at Gaston’s praise she forgot everything. In the sweetness of that unlooked-for avowal, ‘_I am proud of you_,’ all dread of the future, all unpleasant recollections of the past, were swept clean away out of Dinah’s brain. She would not risk the moment’s happiness by another word. Her hand trembled, as though they had gone back to the old romantic days at Lesser Cheriton, as it rested on Gaston’s arm. ‘Proud of me! Ah, my love,’ she whispered, ‘I hope that you and I will never have a worse quarrel than this while we live.’