"Hullo!" he cried. "Now who'd have dreamt that I'd meet you like this? I'm ashamed of you, James. 'Pon my word I am. Philandering across the strand in the fall of the evening as if you were still in the twenties. It's with me you should have been. We had the deuce of a fine run!" He paused to push his hat from his hot forehead and to rearrange the bridle. Clodagh, who had followed Milbanke slowly, stepped eagerly forward as she caught the last words. "Oh, father," she cried, "tell us about it! Who was there? Was the sport good? Did the bay carry you well?" In her suddenly awakened interest it was clear to Milbanke that the vital question she had been discussing with him--the opinions he had expressed upon it--his very existence even, were obliterated from her mind, her natural, youthful exuberance responding to the idea of any physical action as unfailingly as the needle answers to the magnet. And again the faintly poignant sense of aloofness and age fell upon him as he listened uncomprehendingly to Asshlin's excited flow of words, and watched the bright, ardent face of the girl glowing out of the shadows. They made a curious trio as they covered the stretch of road that led to Orristown and passed between the heavy moss-grown piers of the big gate, entering the deep shade of the avenue. With an instinctive care for his horse, Asshlin went first, cautiously guiding the animal over the ruts that time and the heavy rains had ploughed in the soft ground. Behind him came Clodagh, Milbanke, and their following of dogs. Once again the thought of what the evening held came unpleasantly to Milbanke's mind as the shadow of the gaunt beech trees and the outline of the great square house brought the position home to him afresh. Lack imagination as he might, he realised that it was no light task to thwart a man whose faults had been cultivated and whose peculiarities--racial and personal--had been accentuated by a quarter of a century of comparative isolation. But instinctively as the thought came to him, he turned to the girl, whose erect figure had grown indistinct in the gathering gloom. "Miss Clodagh," he whispered, "though I may not understand, are you satisfied to trust me?" There was a pause; then, with one of the sudden impulses that formed so large a part of her individuality, Clodagh put out her hand; and for an instant her fingers and Milbanke's touched.