But this Mr. Trego, swinging ponderously by her side down the terrace walks, maintaining what was doubtless intended as a civil silence but what achieved only oppressiveness, of a sudden inspired a sharp impression that he would prove a man easy to dislike intensely--the sort of man who is capable of inspiring fear and makes enemies without any perceptible difficulty. And if that were so--if, as it seemed, she had already, intuitively, acquired a distaste for Mr. Trego--how could she at once retain her self-respect and his money--money which she had won in defiance of the rules of fair play? It stuck in her fist, a hard little wad of silver wrapped in the bill; nearly twenty-one dollars, the equivalent of three weeks' pay for drudgery, the winnings of an idle hour, the increment of false pretences. "There's your view," Trego's voice broke upon the reverie. "Pretty fine, isn't it?" They paused in a corner of the terrace, where a low stone wall, grey, weathered and lichened, fenced the brow of the cliff; and Sally's glance compassed a panorama of sea and sky and rocky headlands, with little appreciation of its wild, exquisite beauty. She uttered an absent-minded "Yes," hesitated, plunged boldly: "Mr. Trego, I do wish you'd let me give back this money!" His slowness in replying moved her to seek an answer in his face. He was unquestionably sifting his surprise for some excuse for her extraordinary request; a deep gravity informed his heavy-lidded eyes that were keen with an intelligence far more alert than she had previously credited. He said deliberately: "Why?" "I'd rather not say." She offered the money in her open hand. "But I'd feel--well, easier, if you'd take it back." He clasped his hands behind him and shook his head. "Not without good reason. I don't understand, and what I don't understand I can't be party to." She tried the effect of a wistful smile. "Please! I wish you wouldn't make me tell you." "I wish you wouldn't put me in such an uncomfortable position. I don't like to refuse you anything you've set your heart on, but my notion of playing the game is to lose like a loser and--win like a winner." "That's just it. I can't win like a winner because--because I didn't win fairly." "You never cheated." It was less a question than an assertion. "How do you know?" "I'd have known quick enough if you'd tried. Anyway, you're not that kind." "How do you know I'm not?" There was a pause. Then Trego smiled oddly. "Better not ask me. You don't know me very well yet." She coloured faintly. "Then I must tell you you are wrong. I did cheat. I did, I tell you! I played for money without a cent to pay my losses if I lost. You don't call that fair play, do you?" "Depends. Of course, it's hard to believe." "I'm penniless. You don't understand my position here. I'm--nobody. Mrs. Standish took pity on me because I was out of work and brought me here to act as secretary to Mrs. Gosnold."