“Forgive me for getting between you and the sunshine for a moment,” he said. “But I thought I could still do five feet five; and you weren’t standing upright either. I’ve done within an inch of six feet, you know. And now I’m afraid I must reluctantly ask you to excuse me. I thank you for the pleasure of this conversation.” He bowed, put on his hat, turned, and began to walk away along Beach Path. “You got the better of me that time, but you’ve not done with me yet,” she cried, starting after him. He turned and looked over his shoulder: save for his eyes his face was quite grave. He quickened his pace to a very rapid walk. Norah found that she must run, or fall behind. She began to run. Again that gravely derisory face turned upon her. She blushed, and fell suddenly to wondering whether in running she looked absurd. She fell to a walk. Lynborough seemed to know. Without looking round again, he abated his pace. “Oh, I can’t catch you if you won’t stop!” she cried. “My friend and secretary, Roger Wilbraham, tells me that I have no right to stop,” Lynborough explained, looking round again, but not standing still. “I have only the right to pass and repass. I’m repassing now. He’s a barrister, and he says that’s the law. I daresay it is--but I regret that it prevents me from obliging you, Lady Norah.” “Well, I’m not going to make a fool of myself by running after you,” said Norah crossly. Lynborough walked slowly on; Norah followed; they reached the turn of the path towards the Grange hall door. They reached it--and passed it--both of them. Lynborough turned once more--with a surprised lift of his brows. “At least I can see you safe off the premises!” laughed Norah, and with a quick dart forward she reduced the distance between them to half-a-yard. Lynborough seemed to have no objection; proximity made conversation easier; he moved slowly on. Norah seemed defeated--but suddenly she saw her chance, and hailed it with a cry. The Marchesa’s bailiff--John Goodenough--was approaching the path from the house situated at the south-west corner of the meadow. Her cry of his name caught his attention--as well as Lynborough’s. The latter walked a little quicker. John Goodenough hurried up. Lynborough walked steadily on. “Stop him, John!” cried Norah, her eyes sparkling with new excitement. “You know her Excellency’s orders? This is Lord Lynborough!” “His lordship! Ay, it is. I beg your pardon, my lord, but--I’m very sorry to interfere with your lordship, but----” “You’re in my way, Goodenough.” For John had got across his path, and barred progress. “Of course I must stand still if you impede my steps, but I do it under protest. I only want to repass.” “You can’t come this way, my lord. I’m sorry, but it’s her Excellency’s strict orders. You must go back, my lord.” “I am going back--or I was till you stopped me.” “Back to where you came from, my lord.” “I came from Scarsmoor and I’m going back there, Goodenough.”