"I would love to know what you were thinking of," he said softly; and then with great care he pulled a bramble aside so that it should not touch her. They had turned into a lane beyond the kitchen garden and the park. Zara started. She had, indeed, been far away! "I was thinking--" she said, and then she paused for a suitable lie but none came, so she grew confused, and stopped, and hesitated, and then she blurted out, "I was thinking was it possible there could ever be any one whom one could believe?" Lord Elterton looked at her. What a strange woman! "Yes," he said simply, "you can believe me when I tell you I have never been so attracted by any one in my life." "Oh! for that!" she answered contemptuously. _"Mon Dieu!_ how often I have heard of that!" This was not what he had expected. There was no empty boast about the speech, as there would have been if Laura Highford had uttered it--she was fond of demonstrating her conquests and power in words. There was only a weariness as of something banal and tiring. He must be more careful. "Yes, I quite understand," he said sympathetically. "You must be bored with the love of men." "I have never seen any love of men. Do men know love?" she asked, not with any bitterness--only as a question of fact. What had Tristram been about? Lord Elterton thought. Here he had been married to this divine creature for a whole week, and she was plainly asking the question from her heart. And Tristram was no fool in a general way, he knew. There was some mystery here, but whatever it was there was the more chance for him! So he went on very tactfully, trying insidiously to soothe her, so that at last when they had arrived Zara had enjoyed her walk. Montfitchet Tower was all that remained of the old castle destroyed by Cromwell's Ironsides. It was just one large, square room, a sort of great hall. It had stood roofless for many years and then been covered in by the old Duke's father, and contained a splendid stone chimney piece of colossal proportions. It had also been floored, and had the raised place still, where the family had eaten "above the salt." The rest of the old castle was a complete ruin, and at the Restoration the new one had been rebuilt about a mile further up the park. Lady Ethelrida had collected several pieces of rough oak furniture to put into this great room which in height reached three stories up, and the supports of the mantelpieces of the upper floors could be seen on the blackened stone walls. It was here she gave her school treats and tenants' summer dances, because there was a great stretch of green, turfy lawn beyond, down to the river, where they could play their games. And on a wet day it was an ideal picnic place.