"Why should you miss them?" he asked anxiously, for there was a superior wisdom in her tone which he knew and dreaded. "I'm going down to Heddingford when you go. We can ride there." "But we are going to Scotland first; didn't mamma tell you? We are to stay with Captain Macleod." Poor Jack's heart gave a great throb of pain. "Macleod?" he echoed, "that is the tall, handsome fellow, isn't it, who used to hang round you before I came up from the works?" This allusion to Paul's good looks was unfortunate, since Jack's were not improved by the sudden flush which crimsoned even his ears. "I don't know what you mean by hanging round," retorted the girl, quickly. "It is a very vulgar expression." This again was unwise, for Jack, knowing his strong point was not refinement, felt instantly superior to such trivialities, and took the upper hand. "Call it what you like, Ally. You know perfectly well what I mean, and what he meant, too." There was no denying it, and, after all, why should it be denied? Had she not a right to have other lovers besides Jack? "Let us come for another canter," she said, in the tone of voice which an elder sister might have used to a troublesome little brother, who required to be coaxed out of ill humour. "There is no use being cross about it, you know." She went a little too far, and roused him into laying his hand on her rein, abruptly. And the action startled her, for she hated any display of emotion, being, in truth, totally unaccustomed to it. "Not yet, Ally! I want to have this out first. It is time I did. And yet I don't know how to begin; perhaps because it never had a beginning. I've always cared for you--you know that. Ever since----" the young man's eyes grew moist suddenly over some childish recollection, and then an almost savage look came to his face. "And you--you cared. I'm sure you cared----" Some people have the knack of saying the wrong thing, and in this case poor Jack Woodward gave his mistress a handle both to her pride and her prudence. "Care," she echoed, in a patronising tone. "Of course, Jack, I cared. I cared for you very much, and I care for you now. So much so that I am not going to let you be foolish any more. We didn't understand what things really meant in those old days----" "You don't understand now," he broke in hotly. "Don't I," she continued; "perhaps I don't, for I don't really see what there is to make such a fuss about. And it is very selfish----" "Do you mean to say that it is selfish of me to love you?" he cried. "Selfish to----" She interrupted him again with the same facile wisdom. "Very selfish, if we stand in each other's way. And, after all, Jack, what we both need to make life really successful is something we have neither of us got. We are only soap-boilers, you know, and society----" "Society!" he echoed sternly. "What has society to do with it? I didn't think you were so worldly."