"No. He hurt his leg in the Boer War, that was all. He goes in for carpentering—a most useful hobby. He has made a lot of things for me, and we are great pals." "No ladies, I hope?" "Only the Admiral's daughter. You have met her, have you not? She was staying with your cousin, Lady Fielding, the other day." "Molly is always running girls by the dozens. That is why I fled down here; they were too many for me." Randolph relapsed into gloom, and Monica wisely left him and went into the house. She knew why he disliked all girls at this juncture, but made no comment upon his speech. He paced the gravel path, enjoying his pipe and the cool, still evening air. Suddenly a small head shot out of an open window overhead. "Cousin Ran, I'm going to be a poacher when I grows up!" The head was as quickly withdrawn. Aunt Dannie could be heard expostulating with the small boy. And Randolph smiled. "The love of intrigue and sport begins early," he muttered. "I meant to be a poacher once." His thoughts went back to a lonely boyhood, then swiftly turned to his more recent experiences of life, and as he remembered his wrongs, the peacefulness of his surroundings did not bring peace to his soul. The next evening found him walking down the road, a light overcoat covering his dress-suit, and Monica by his side. "You don't mind walking?" she was saying. "My mare is dead tired. I had to send her on an errand of five-and-twenty miles to-day. And, selfishly, I enjoy a tramp at this hour of the day." "I mind nothing except the anticipation of our evening," he said somewhat grimly. "I know you are a martyr; but it's good to do some things we don't like, Ran, especially if it gives pleasure to others." They walked through a shady lane, then turned down a road flanked by beech woods, and went steadily downhill for half a mile. Then they saw the river. It was high tide, and some fishing smacks, with their red-brown sails, were floating slowly down to the sea. They came to a high, tarred wooden fence, and Monica stopped at a small gate in it. "We'll go in this way. It is a short cut. I am allowed a key." A short walk through a dense shrubbery brought them out under a group of trees to the side of the house. The garden stretched away in terraces down to the river. On the lower lawn were a row of ship's guns mounted, and trees and flowering shrubs stretched down to the water's edge. They turned a corner sharply, and the long low, white house lay before them. It was a pretty spot; but Randolph's gaze was not on the house or the grounds.