"I think," he said softly, as he held out a finger bleeding from the prick of a pin, "you are the daintiest, thorniest thing I ever touched. You're like the roses I gave you this morning, all colour, sweetness and scent, and--thorns." Whereat they both laughed as they made their way to the ideal spot for lovers. To their surprise and discomfiture they found it already occupied by Margaret Muir, who was looking sentimentally out to sea with the Reverend Patrick Bryce's arm round her waist. "Meg!" cried Marmaduke, aghast. "Oh, Marmaduke! Why? How did you come?" wailed his sister, jumping up and looking round as if for escape. The Reverend Patrick Bryce, however, stood his ground. He was a small spare man of about fifty, dapper and spruce, his curling grey hair having the appearance of a wig under his low crowned hat, his clear, starched clerical bands natty to a degree. "Captain Marmaduke Muir, I presume," he said, with a bow of a marquis. "I regret much exposing my dear Miss Margaret Muir to this unpleasantness, but I beg you to believe that, as my affianced wife, I am ready to defend her to the uttermost." Marmaduke looked from one to the other of the delinquents. "You don't mean to say, Meg," he said at last, "that you wish to marry the minister?" The very idea seemed to him preposterous, absurd; he almost laughed at it. The Reverend Patrick Bryce gave her no time for reply. "She not only desires to marry me, sir, but she is going to do so, please God, before long. Yes, sir, I propose to take her away from a demoralising atmosphere, and give her, to the utmost of my power, the love and affection she deserves." He looked very gallant as he made his little speech, and Marmaduke acknowledged to himself that he played the gentleman well. Still, he turned again to his sister in incredulity. "You can't do it, Meg. To begin with, if the Baron----" "Baron Drummuir, sir, will have nothing to say to it," interrupted the little minister once more. "The Honourable Margaret Muir is of age, and if she chooses to marry a man of birth equal to her own--I do not care to boast of my ancestry, sir, but Bryce and Bruce are the same, and my family tree shows Robert of Scotland to be my immediate ancestor--she is at liberty to do so." "That is for Lord Drummuir to decide," said Marmaduke grimly. "Of course, I shall tell him, Meg, what I've seen." Margaret clasped her hands in entreaty. "Oh, please, don't, Duke--please, please!" "Margaret," interrupted the minister sharply, "oblige me by not entreating your brother to silence. Let him speak if he chooses. We are not ashamed of ourselves." All this time Mdlle. Le Grand had been watching the scene with her sharp eyes, and her acute little brain had been working out any advantage to herself. Now she saw her way and slipped forward with a smile.