I nodded. We had made a little circuit, and had reached the road again within a few yards of our gate. “Yes, I am going to make something for my father. He is really ill, you know.” “Why don’t you let your sister do it?” he said. “She looks a great deal more used to that sort of thing than you do.” “Thanks,” I answered. “At the same time you are quite wrong. It is I who am the domestic one of the family.” He looked distinctly incredulous. “You don’t give one that idea at all,” he said, forcibly. “Well, you shall see,” I told him. “Some day we will ask you to luncheon and cook it between us. I know whose productions you will prefer.” “So do I,” he answered, fervently. “You don’t know my sister,” I remarked. “I don’t want to,” he answered, bluntly. I raised my eyebrows. “You are very rude,” I told him. “I beg your pardon. I did not mean to be. As a rule I detest women almost as much as they detest me. I do not think that your sister would interest me.” “She does a great deal of good,” I said. “She is managing the whole parish while my father is ill.” “I have no doubt she is very useful in her way,” he answered, indifferently. “She is much better tempered than I am,” I added. “I have no doubt about that,” he answered, with a smile. “But I don’t think that she could have bandaged your dog’s leg as well as I did,” I said. He looked at me with a sudden new thoughtfulness. “That was the first time I spoke to you,” he remarked. “It seems a long time ago.” “One measures time by events,” I said. “And that,” he replied, quickly, “was a great event. I am not likely to forget it. I shall never forget it.” I laughed. “Not such a great event after all as the coming of the heroine of your romance,” I said. “How interesting it must have been to meet her again!” “Rubbish!” he exclaimed, testily. I shrugged my shoulders and turned towards the house. “You are very rude,” I declared. “I am going in.” He looked into my face and was reassured. “I wish from the bottom of my heart that she had never come here,” he groaned. “God knows I would send her away if I had the power.” “I only wish that you could,” I answered, sadly. “She is like a bird of ill-omen. She looks at me out of those big black eyes as if she hated me. I believe I am getting to be afraid of her. Do you think that she will really stay here more than a day or two?” He nodded his head gloomily. “I believe so,” he answered. “You see what responsibility the rescuer of young maidens in distress incurs,” I remarked, spitefully. “I wish,” he said, looking at me steadily, “that I had let that carriage go to the bottom of the precipice.” “They would have been killed!” I cried. “Exactly,” he remarked, grimly. “You are very wicked to think of such a thing,” I said. “I am only living up to my reputation, then,” he answered. “That is what my godmamma told you about me, isn’t it?”