"Much obliged; not to-night, sir. It be getting late. Say good-evening, Denas." There was something so final about the man's manner that Roland was compelled to accept the dismissal, but it deeply offended him, and the unreasonable anger opened the door for evil thoughts; and evil thoughts--having a cursed and powerful vitality--immediately began to take form and to make plans for their active gratification. Denas walked silently down the narrow path before her father. He could see by the way she carried herself and by the swing of the little basket in her hand that she was vexed, and he had a sense of injustice in her attitude which he could not define, but which wounded his great loving heart deeply. At last they reached the shingle, and he strode to her side. "You be in a great hurry now, Denas," he said. "I want to speak to my mother." "What is it, dear? Father will do as well." "No, he won't. Father is cruel cross to-night, and thinking wrong of his girl and wrong of others who meant no wrong." "Then I be sorry enough, Denas. Come, my dear, we won't quarrel for a bad man like Roland Tresham." "He isn't bad, father." "He is cruel bad--worse than an innocent girl can know. Aw, my dear, you must take father's word for it. How was he walking with you to-night? 'Twas some devil's miracle, I'll warrant." "No, then, it was not. He came from London on the afternoon train, and Miss Tresham had a bad headache and could not set me home as she always does." "You should have come home alone. There was nothing to fear you." "'Tis the first time." "And, my dear, 'tis the last time. Mind that! 'Twill be a bad hour for Roland Tresham if I see him making love to my girl again." "He didn't say a word of love to me, father." "Aw, then, he was looking it--more shame to him, not to give looks words." "Cannot a man look at a pretty girl? I call that nonsense, father." "Roland Tresham can't look at you, Denas, any more as I saw him looking at you to-night--bold and free, and sure and laughing to his own heart for the clever he was, and the devil in his eyes and on his tongue. 'Twas all wrong, my dear, or I wouldn't be feeling so hot and angry about it. I wouldn't be feeling as if my heart was cut loose from its moorings and sinking down and down as deep as fear can send it." "You might trust me, father." "Aw, my sweet girl, there's times an angel can't be trusted, or so many wouldn't have lost themselves. It takes a man to know men and all the wickedness mixed up in their flesh and blood. There's your mother, Denas--God bless her!" Joan came strolling forward to meet them, her large, handsome face beaming and shining with love and pride. But she was immediately sensitive to the troubled, angry atmosphere in which her husband and child walked, and she looked into John's face with the inquiry in her eyes. "Denas is vexed about Roland Tresham, mother."