"Nor the old lady. Sylvia is fond of Miss Spencer, strange as it may seem." "Why is it strange, Pam? I can't help using the sweet little name." He had taken her hand by this time, and they were walking like children down the aisle of golden trees. "You haven't seen Miss Spencer. She is a little mad and a little grotesque to most people. But she is devoted to Sylvia, and Sylvia to her. She is not mad to Sylvia." "How does it come that I haven't seen Miss Spencer?" "She has been abroad. You'll see her one of these days, I expect. She was crossed in love in her youth, and it seems to have made her strange in ways. She's immensely wealthy, and gives a good deal in charity, but mostly among single women. She seems to think that those who have husbands and children don't need pity." "She's quite safe for your sister to be with?" "Oh, quite. She has all her senses, only that she's a trifle peculiar. She's a splendid business woman, everyone says." "It is a curious friendship. I should never have supposed it of Miss Sylvia." "No. One funny thing is that Miss Spencer's full of sentiment--wait till you hear her sing 'She wore a Wreath of Roses'--whereas Sylvia's quite without sentiment, and laughs at everything sentimental." "I feel sorry for the poor old thing," said Sir Anthony, with a half-ashamed laugh, "because she was crossed in love. I shouldn't like to be crossed in love myself, Pamela." "It was cruel," said Pamela simply. "The man made her love him, and then went away and never came back. She was poor then. She inherited Dovercourt quite unexpectedly." "What a sweep he must have been!" [Illustration: "Come along, Trevithick," he cried, rushing away.] "Poor Miss Spencer always thinks he will come back, though people say he married abroad and died there. I tell you all this so that you won't be the least bit in the world inclined to laugh when you see her. I daresay it's funny enough to see a pink silk coal-scuttle bonnet on top of a grey head; but then, you know, you don't feel like laughing." "No, indeed, darling." "Sylvia says it's made a man-hater of her. That's how she excuses herself for treating her admirers so outrageously." "I'd have fallen in love with Sylvia myself, only for you, Pamela." "It's lucky you didn't, Tony." The name came with soft hesitation. "Why, Pam?" "She'd have laughed in your face." "I'd rather have your way, Pam." "My way?" "Though it made me behave worse than I intended. But never mind. A little time will unravel the tangled skein. Now we are nearly out of the wood. Ah, Pamela! kiss me once--I shall not ask you again till I have the full right." Without a word the girl lifted her face to meet his kiss. To her it was the kiss of betrothal. CHAPTER VI. "I WILL COME AGAIN, MY DEAR."