True, even if he held aloof now, she might in the end reject Colin; and he would then be free to seek her. But of this he had small hope. Colin had seldom, if ever, sought to win affection, and sought in vain. He felt his own position so far not unhopeful. Phyllys liked him; she was cousinly, even confiding. To persevere might mean success. And if success for him meant unhappiness, despair, for Colin! Again the past rolled up. Again he saw his own resolve, and the causes which had led to it. "One may have strained ideas of duty," he muttered. "There is such a thing as common sense in the affairs of life." Yes; and there is also such a thing as putting self aside for the sake of another. This, too, he knew. But he saw once more her sweetness, and resistance collapsed. He acknowledged himself beaten. CHAPTER XVIII A PAST EPISODE "YOU are staying for some time at Castle Hill?" observed Kathleen Alyn, with her air of interest. They were under a tree on the lawn; Mr. Dugdale having retreated to a basket-chair and a book within earshot. Giles had walked with Phyllys and Gordon to Brook-End Grange, and had stayed to luncheon. A business engagement then claimed him, and Mrs. Alyn would not hear of Phyllys going before six. Since Phyllys welcomed the delay, nothing remained for Giles but gloomily to depart alone. "I'm afraid not. Mrs. Keith did ask me to stay longer, but Grannie gave leave only for three weeks." Phyllys did not hear her own sigh. "The days are going so awfully fast." "You don't begin to feel home-sick yet?" "No. Ought I?" "It is natural that you should enjoy change. Midfell seems so out of the world." "It 'is' out of the world. It belongs to two centuries ago. Everything and everybody is asleep." "So even quiet Castle Hill seems gay by contrast." "No, not gay, but awake—alive. One sees and learns here." "You begin to know Giles and Colin by this time. I wonder which of the two strikes you, on an early acquaintance, as the finer character?" "Is it an early acquaintance?" Phyllys felt as if she had known them always. "They are so unlike. One can hardly compare them." "Colin is popular." Mr. Dugdale was peering over the edge of his book. "So is Giles, among his own set. Which does Phyllys say she prefers?" "I didn't say either," laughed Phyllys. "I like both—each in his own way." "One feels so sorry for poor Colin," remarked Kathleen; and, as before, the word annoyed Phyllys. "I can't see why one should be sorry for him. He is to be envied—not pitied. He is so much above ordinary men. I think he can afford not to be so—so—" "Muscular," suggested Mr. Dugdale. "I see you rate a man's intellect above his biceps." "Wouldn't you?" "Some don't in this athletic age." "But I do," decisively. "And Colin is a genius. That is a thousand times better than being able to walk thirty miles without feeling tired."