"Who? Georgie! annoyed? Oh, you must have been mistaken. I should have noticed it in an instant if that had been the case." "You think so! Well, then, very likely it was my mistake. And I was so frightened, so fearful of causing any misunderstanding between you, so terrified at the thought of getting you into trouble, that I at once called that odious Major Winton into my service, and have suffered him to bore me with his _niaiseries_ throughout the day." "Oh, _that_ was the reason that you flirted with Winton, then! I thought--" "Thought what? Ah, I've caught you! You were angry then?" "Well, perhaps,--just a little." "I should have been deeply hurt if you had not been; it would have showed that you had no real interest in me, and that would be dreadful. Just before I knew you, I held my life as utterly valueless, the daily repetition of a dull dreary task,--nothing to live for, nobody to care for. And this morning, when I thought you were really angry with me, that feeling came back so hopelessly--oh, so hopelessly! I think I should die if I had no one to take interest in me now." She moved her hand towards the little pocket in her saddle-flap for her handkerchief, but he stopped it in its descent and held it in his own. "While I live," said he, "you will never have cause to make that complaint." And their eyes met,--hers soft and dreamy, his fierce and eager. A delicious interchange of glances to the persons concerned, but perhaps not so pleasant to a looker-on. Apparently very displeasing to the only one then present--a tall slim woman, picking her way in a very cattish manner across the adjoining meadow; who stopped on catching sight of the equestrians, frowned heavily as she watched them, and crouched under the shadow of the hedge until they had passed. CHAPTER XVI. CHECK.