“I never knew until last night that you were Mr. Gregory’s granddaughter.” He had spoken the least bit tragically and she smiled. “Yes, he is my grandfather. I understand perfectly that I shouldn’t be here, in your father’s house, with my grandfather feeling as he does toward Colonel Craighill; and I’m sorry about it.” “I’m sorry, too--sorry about that unpleasant business matter. I have offered to settle your grandfather’s claim. I should like you to know that I acknowledge the justice of it.” “But it’s not the point for you to acknowledge it. It’s only partly a money matter; there’s more to it than that--at least, that’s grandfather’s way of looking at it. Mrs. Craighill asked me to stay until she came up from the station and I suppose I shall have to see your father this morning.” “Yes; I imagined she had asked you. She did it out of compliment to me!” The colour stole into her face. She was not so dull but that she saw why Mrs. Craighill had kept her at the house. Jean took up her magazine and began reading. “Please pardon me! I should not have said that.” She nodded slightly, without looking up. Her flushed cheeks told him plainly enough that she had grasped the whole situation at Rosedale and he was angry at himself for having referred to it. “There is nothing in the world so important to me as your good opinion,” he said, standing before her. She closed the magazine upon her hand and looked up at him. “This isn’t quite fair of you, is it? I am in your house, and I can’t very well run away. Please let us not talk of you and me.” There was no sympathy in her tone; she had spoken with quiet decision with the obvious intention of being rid of him. “When I met you at the concert and walked to my sister’s that evening I thought we were understanding each other. Has anything that happened since changed the situation as we left it that day?” “I wish you wouldn’t! Please do not! It is very unfair and unkind. You know perfectly well that I cannot discuss such a matter with you; and what difference does it make one way or another?” “I have no claim on your mercy. I cannot explain anything. I want the right to earn your good opinion; that is what I am asking.” “But why should you be asking? What difference does it make whether my opinion of you is good or bad? It is absurd the way we meet. Every meeting has been a little more unfortunate than the last--if for no other reason than that it has been another one! It is quite possible that I have lost your sister’s friendly interest by that walk home from the concert. You must have seen that she didn’t like it; and she was perfectly right not to like it. Nothing could have been more ill-advised and foolish than our going to her house together.” “Oh, if it’s only Fanny! Fanny understands everything perfectly.”