"But I have seen you do that so often lately," he persisted; "perhaps the inside is not quite smooth. Give it me, please, and I will set it right by Friday." "Don't trouble. If it hurts, I can always take it off; can't I, dear?" There was a sudden passion in her tone, a kind of pitiful reproach in her eyes. Rick looked at her, perturbed. "But if it hurts--" he began. She put out her pretty hand and laid it on his, almost with a protecting gesture. "Nothing you could do would hurt me, Rick. You said so the first time we met, and it is true. If it hurts, it is my own fault." "That doesn't make any difference," he replied stoutly. "Let me have it, please." "Not to-day--on Friday, perhaps; _if it hurts_." They were standing where the cross-path branched to Eval, waiting for the others to come up; for Rick's way lay across the moor and she would be left alone. "I believe it does hurt now," he said, still dissatisfied, "and I know I could set it right. Do let me try." "How serious you are!" she cried with a sudden change of mood. "See! I promise to give it back on Friday if it hurts. It shall be my birthday present. There!" "All right. I'll keep it for yours; then we shall be quits," he said, laughing. When he had left them, Eustace took his place, and Cynthia Strong and Captain Weeks were certainly the happier for the change. Lady Maud, likewise, to judge by her light laughter. Fast Day rose brilliantly. The clear, crisp sunshine poured in through the dining-room windows, when, coming down to breakfast, she found her cousin there, alone. "Another lovely day," she said gaily. "The last for me," he replied. "That was the yacht yesterday. It has anchored below the sands, and the captain has strict orders from Louisa to bring me off dead or alive to-night." He laughed, but there was a bitter look on his face as he tossed a crumpled letter towards her. "Catch! that's my warrant of execution." Not a very nice letter, but a reasonable one in its way. The weather was to blame, of course; still, she had asked him to join her many times and he had not joined her. He had been a month and more at Roederay and now the equinoctial gales were over, she meant to be off southwards. If he could not make use of the yacht, he must send it round to Cowes and make his own arrangements. For her part, she intended to start for the Mediterranean in ten days. Not the sort of letter to be disregarded by a husband dependent on the writer for all save a very moderate settlement. "I've told them to have the boat ready at the Grâda point at five this afternoon to take me on board. Perhaps it is better so. This sort of thing couldn't have gone on much longer." She was silent, and the professor, bursting in, ended the tête-à-tête.