Why, then, cannot Peggy, to whom he owes nothing, be equally considerate? Perhaps Peggy's heart speaks for him. At all events, after one or two vain shots at the harvest-home and the Workhouse tea, she desists from the futile effort to lead him into chat; but subtly remains sitting half turned towards him, as if talking to him, so as to baffle any further ventures--if, indeed, he have the spirit to make such--on the part of her other neighbour. Her tongue being idle, she allows her eyes to travel. It is true that the thick forest of oats and poppies which waves over the board renders the sight of the table's other side about as difficult as that of the coast of France; but at least she can see her fat hostess at the head of the table, and her slim host at the foot. Freddy Ducane is in his glory--something fair and female on either hand. On his right Lady Betty, who, being a duke's daughter, takes precedence of the other smart woman, who was only a miss before she blossomed into a viscountess; on his left, to ensure himself against the least risk of having any dull or vacuous moments during his dinner, he has arranged Prue Lambton--'his little friend Prue.' Beyond the mere fact of proximity--in itself, of course, a splendid boon--she does not, so far, seem to be much the gainer by her position. However, he snatches a moment every now and then to explain to her--Peggy knows it as well as if she heard his words--how entirely a matter of irksome duty and hospitality are his whispers to Lady Betty, his tender comments upon her clothes, and long bunglings with the clasp of her pearls. And, judging by her red-stained cheeks, her empty plate (which of us in his day has not been too superbly happy to eat?), and the trembling smiles that rush out to meet his lame explanations, Prue believes him. Poor little Prue! Margaret sighs sadly and impatiently, and looks away--looks away to find John Talbot's eyes fastened upon her with an expression of such innocent and genuine curiosity that she asks involuntarily: 'Why do you look at me?' 'I beg your pardon a thousand times!' he answers apologetically. 'I was only wondering, to be quite sincere--by the bye, do you like people to be quite sincere?' 'That depends,' replies Peggy cautiously. 'Well, then, I must risk it. I was wondering why on earth you had thought it worth your while to snub me in the way you have been doing.' She does not answer, but again looks straight before her. How very offensive in a woman to look straight before her! She ought to be quite certain of the perfection of her profile before she presents it so persistently to you. Shall he tell her so? That would make her look round pretty quickly. 'I was trying to see whether I could not regard it in the light of a compliment,' continues he audaciously. 'That would not be easy,' replies she drily. 'It was something that you should have thought me worth wasting your powder and shot upon,' he answers.