The sight of her shining eyes, her pale face and quivering lips was to Paul’s heart like a breath of wind upon a smouldering fire. Swiftly he released her hands, threw his arms about her, drew her close to him and kissed her upon the lips. As suddenly he released her and stood back as if expecting he knew not what. “Peggy!” cried the Colonel. “My dear!” cried his wife. “Paul!” shouted the Reverend Donald Fraser, one of the group. The only silent member of the party was a young man, tall, broad-shouldered, with a strong if somewhat heavy face and good blue eyes, now shining with amazement and anger. “Why not?” cried Peg, standing up straight and tall, her face crimson, her eyes flashing. “It is Paul.” “Why not?” said Paul, his voice ringing out with a glad challenge in it. “I said I would come for her.” The Reverend Donald Fraser was the first to recover normality. “You are welcome home, Paul. I heard of you last winter in the city, but I failed to see you.” He took Paul’s hand in his, shook it warmly, patting him on the shoulder the while. “You were doing great work there, I understand.” The Colonel and his wife joined in the greeting, but Paul fancied there was something wanting in the welcome. He missed the Colonel’s old time shout of joy at seeing him. The Colonel then presented him formally to the young man, standing behind Peg. “Mr. Guy Laughton, the eldest son of Sir Stephen Laughton, one of our oldest Dorset families and my oldest and best friend,” the little Colonel announced in swelling words. “Guy, this is Paul Gaspard, an old family friend, indeed I might almost say a member of the family. Brought the boy up indeed.” The young man bowed in an easy, off-hand manner, muttering his delight at the meeting. Paul took a stride toward him, offering his hand. “I am glad to meet you, Mr. Laughton,” he said, “glad to meet an old friend of the Colonel’s.” The grip in which he expressed his delight made the young man wince. “You will join us at dinner, Paul,” said the Colonel’s wife. “We are just sitting down.” Something in her manner prompted Paul to decline, but the quick, eager look in Peg’s eyes decided him. “Thank you, Aunt Augusta,” he replied. “I shall be glad to.”