"After all," she said, touching his arm, "this young man will scarcely run away. Please remember that I am not an athletic person--and I have not much breath left." He slackened his pace at once. "I am sorry," he said. "I was forgetting." "Yes," she answered simply, "you were forgetting. I--noticed it!" To Macheson, her irritation seemed childish--unworthy. He knew so little of women--or their moods. "What are you going to say to Stephen Hurd?" he asked abruptly. "I shall make him marry Letty Foulton," she answered. "Can you do it?" he demanded. "He must marry her or go," she declared. "I will make that quite clear." Macheson drew a little breath. He suddenly realized that for all his impetuosity, the woman who walked so calmly by his side held the cards. He slackened his pace. The lane had narrowed now, and on either side of them was a tall holly hedge. Her hand stole through his arm. "Well," she said softly, "you have not told me yet whether your pilgrimage to Paris was a success." He turned upon her almost fiercely. "Yes!" he answered. "It was! A complete success! I haven't an atom of sentiment left! Thank goodness!" She laughed softly. "I don't believe it," she whispered in his ear. "You went abroad to be cured of an incurable disease. Do you imagine that the Mademoiselle Rosines of the world count for anything? You foolish, foolish person. Do you imagine that if I had not known you--I should have let you go?" "I am not one of your tenants," he answered grimly. "You might be," she laughed. "You are very kind," he declared. "But I need not tell you that nothing in this world would induce me to become one." She walked on, humming to herself. He was hard to tame, she told herself, but the end was so sure. Yet all her experience of his sex had shown her nothing like this. It was the first time she had played such a part. Was it only the novelty which she found attractive? She stole an upward glance at him through the twilight. Taller and more powerful than ever he seemed in the gathering darkness--so far as looks were concerned he was certainly desirable enough. And yet the world--her world, was full of handsome men. It must be something else which he possessed, some other less obvious gift, perhaps that flavour of puritanism about his speech and deportment, of which she was always conscious. He resisted where other men not only succumbed but rushed to meet their fate. It must be that, or----