Across the little room Robin's eyes laughed into hers. "Perhaps I'll tell you some other time--when I know you better," he said. At that moment Ann returned from speeding the Tempests on their way. Mrs. Hilyard rose. "I must be going, too, I think," she said. "But I don't want you to trouble about driving me back, Miss Lovell. I'll walk." "It's no trouble at all," Ann assured her. "Tell Billy to bring the cart round, will you, Robin?" He nodded, and held out his hand to Mrs. Hilyard. "Good-bye," he said. "I'd ask you to let me drive you back, but that I've made an appointment to see one of Mr. Coventry's tenants." A few minutes later Dick Turpin, somewhat annoyed at being taken out of his stall just as feeding-time approached, was bearing Ann and her new acquaintance swiftly along the road towards the Priory. Mrs. Hilyard was very silent during the first part of the drive. She appeared absorbed in her own thoughts, and from the expression of her face one might have hazarded a guess that she was inwardly debating some moot point. All at once she seemed to come to a decision. "I think," she said in a quiet, clear voice, "that I must have met this Mr. Coventry who lives at Heronsmere. I knew an Eliot Coventry--once." She did not look at Ann as she spoke, but gazed straight ahead as though the strip of bare, lonely road which stretched in front of them were of peculiarly vital interest. "What--is he like?" she went on. Any one observing her at the moment would have gathered the impression that she was forcing herself to speak with composure--that it was not easy for her. But Ann, preoccupied with Dick Turpin's vagaries, was not looking at her. "Oh, he's tall," she made answer. "And has grey eyes. There's a little white scar just under one of them." The woman beside her drew a quick breath. "Ah"--the sweet, _trâinante_ voice was a fraction uneven. "Then it _is_ the man I've met." The ralli-cart swung round a corner into a narrow lane, and a quick exclamation broke from Ann as she recognised in the tall, striding figure approaching from the opposite direction the man of whom they had just been speaking. A beautiful thoroughbred collie bounded along beside him, looking up at his master every now and again with adoring eyes. "Why, here _is_ Mr. Coventry!" she exclaimed. "Shall I pull up?" Without waiting for an answer she brought the cob to a standstill exactly as Eliot, catching sight of them, halted instinctively. "Good afternoon," she called out gaily, as he lifted his hat. "We were just speaking of you. Here is an old acquaintance of yours." Eliot's glance travelled swiftly from her face to that of her companion. His expression was quite impenetrable--mask-like in its impassivity. Mrs. Hilyard bent forward, holding out her hand. "Have you forgotten me, Mr. Coventry?"