Eustace linked the hand in his arm as they walked. "Tell me about her!" he said. "About Isabel?" Scott spoke with very obvious constraint. "There isn't much to tell. She is just--going. These breathless attacks come very frequently, and she is weaker after each one. The doctor says it would not be surprising if she went in her sleep, or in fact at any time." "And she asked for me?" The question fell curtly; Eustace was looking straight ahead up the white, dusty road as he uttered it. "Yes; she wanted you." Equally curtly came Scott's reply. He ignored the hand on his arm, limping forward at his own pace and leaving his brother to accommodate himself to it as best he could. Sir Eustace sauntered beside him in silence for a space. They were approaching the heath-clad common that gave the place its name, when he spoke again. "And Dinah?" he said then. Again Scott glanced upwards, his pale eyes very resolute. "Yes, Dinah is still here. Her people seem quite indifferent as to what becomes of her, and Isabel wishes to keep her with her. I hope--" he hesitated momentarily--"I hope you will bear in mind the extreme difficulty of her situation." Sir Eustace passed over the low words. "And what is going to happen to her--afterwards?" he said. "Heaven knows!" Scott spoke as one compelled. Sir Eustace continued to gaze straight before him. "Haven't you thought of any solution to the difficulty?" he asked. "What do you mean?" Scott's voice rang suddenly stern. A faint smile touched his brother's face; it was like the shadow of his old, supercilious sneer. "It occurred to me that you, being a chivalrous knight, might be moved to offer her your protection," he explained coolly. "You are quite at liberty to do so, so far as I am concerned. I give you my free consent." Scott started, as if he had been stung. "Man, don't sneer at me!" he said in a voice that quivered. "I've a good many things against you, and I'm damned if I can stand any more!" There was desperation in his words. Sir Eustace's brows went up, and his smile departed. But there came no answering anger in his eyes. He was silent for several moments, pacing forward, his hand no longer linked in Scott's arm. Then at last very quietly he spoke. "You're right. You have a good many things against me. But this is not one of them. I was not sneering at you." There was a note of most unwonted sincerity in his voice that gave conviction to his words. Scott turned and regarded him in open amazement. The steel-blue eyes met his with an odd, half-shamed expression. "You mustn't bully me, you know, Stumpy!" he said. "Remember, I can't hit back." Scott stood still. He had never in his life been more astounded. Even then, with the direct evidence before him, he could hardly believe that the old haughty dominance had given place to something different. "Why--can't you--hit back?" he said, almost stammering in his uncertainty.