"That's what Lee told me," Lawrence explained. Then he added, with some edge to his tone, "I suppose no one but an Englishman would have the courage to shave such a chin as he wears. Most of us poor men-folks would let a beard hide that. Why, it makes him look almost imbecile." And again Lawrence had the unpleasant consciousness that he was speaking childishly. Carolyn leaned a little towards her companion. She smiled charmingly, as she said, in a bantering tone, "Don't let us care anything about the Maxwell chin." Then they both laughed. It was an hour later in the day that Prudence, walking down towards the shore, came upon Lawrence, sitting on the ground, placidly smoking a cigar. She was alone, and she paused irresolutely, as she saw him. CHAPTER VI. THE EVENING BEFORE. Lawrence rose, and threw away his cigar. "Where's Carolyn?" she asked, quickly. "Called into the house. Where's Lord Maxwell?" "Gone back to Seaview. It seems as if we ought to console each other, doesn't it?" "Yes. But I won't even try to make Maxwell's place good." "Thank fortune you can't!" "Is that the way you speak of absent friends?" Prudence deliberately sat down in the shade of the tree near where Lawrence had been sitting. "Let us converse," she said. The young man resumed his position. "No," remarked Prudence, presently; "that isn't the way I speak of absent friends. I don't know that Lord Maxwell is a friend--" "What is he, then, I should like to know?" "Oh, well, perhaps you may call him 'first flirter' just now." Here Prudence pulled a long blade of grass, and thoughtfully examined it. "First flirter? Ugh!" After this Lawrence kept silence, and the girl picked the grass to pieces. He glanced at her; he saw that her face was softening in a way he remembered. He thought he would rise and walk away; then it did not seem quite courteous to leave her so markedly. "I hope you enjoy it," he said, finally. "Sitting here with you? Oh, yes," she replied, in a gentle voice, but with a quizzical smile. "No," he said, rather too forcibly; "flirting with Maxwell." "I don't enjoy it at all," she remarked, plaintively. "Then I'd be hanged if I'd do it!" he commented, emphatically. "I suppose he likes it, though." "Rodney, please don't talk to me so." Prudence suddenly lifted her eyes, and looked at Lawrence. Her whole face seemed to quiver for an instant with some uncontrollable emotion. Then she turned her head aside, and was silent. Lawrence sat there rigid, waiting for the next words to be spoken. He did not intend to be the one to speak them; but after a moment he said, slowly forming his sentence: "I think a friend would advise you not to keep up this apparent intimacy with Lord Maxwell." Prudence laughed, as one laughs who will not weep. "One must do something," she said. She did not glance at him now, but he looked at her, boldly and insistently. "What do you mean?" He put the inquiry authoritatively.