His eyes were shining straight into hers, and they seemed to be asking her something, pleading, beseeching. She found a strange feeling invading her, a feeling that had sometimes surged up in her heart when she saw a dying animal, or a bird fluttering against cage-bars. But this time there was a new intensity in it, and a stifling sense of pain. She suddenly put out her hand and laid it on his--then drew it shyly away. The sky had flushed to a fiery purple behind the turrets of Brambletye. A mysterious glow trembled on the ivy. The birds were twittering restlessly, and every now and then a robin uttered his harsh signal note. Nigel rose to his feet. "You mustn't be late home, or your parents will get anxious." "We've had such a ripping picnic--better than if I'd gone to Fairwarp." "I've been dull company for you, I'm afraid." "Oh, no--indeed not! I've so enjoyed talking to you about school." Nigel smiled at her. "Perhaps we can meet and talk about school another day." "Yes--I expect we can. I'm generally alone, you see." "Haven't you any friends?" "I've heaps at school--but they all seem so far away." He was wheeling her bicycle up the lane, and the sun, struggling through the clouds at last, flung long shadows before them. In summer the lanes are often ugly, white and bare, but in autumn they share the beauty of the fields. This lane, delicately slimed with Sussex mud, wound a soft gleaming brown between the hedges, except where the rain-filled ruts were crimson with the sky. "It's only four miles to Shovelstrode," said Nigel. "I'll wheel your bicycle to Wilderwick corner--you won't mind going the rest of the way alone, will you?--it's not more than a hundred yards, and I shall have to go down Wilderwick hill and make a bolt across country if I'm to be home in time." "I hope I haven't kept you." "Oh, no--I've enjoyed every moment of it." "So have I. That man Furlonger did me a good turn after all." "What do you mean?" he asked sharply. "Well, if it hadn't been for him, I'd never have met you." "Furlonger...." "Yes--he was the man who was bothering me at East Grinstead Station, at least my people say it must have been. He came out of prison that day, you know." "Oh...." "Have you heard of him?" "Yes. I--I know him slightly." "He's a dreadful man, isn't he?" Nigel licked his lips. "Yes--he's a rotter. But he--he has his good points--all men have." "I don't see how a man like Furlonger can. He seems bad all around. I wonder you care to know him." "I don't care--I can't help it." "I suppose you knew him before he went to gaol." "Yes--and unluckily I can't drop him now." "I should." Nigel stared at her, and suddenly felt angry. "Why, you hard-hearted little girl?" "He's bad all through--father says so." "Your father doesn't know him. I do, and I say he has his good points." "Are you very fond of him?" "No--I'm not." "Then why do you stick up for him so? You're quite angry."