And suddenly he was grave, intent as he had been at the first moment; this time towards the door, outside which sounded Daphne’s eager breathless voice and ceased in the doorway. Her swift slight footsteps crossed the room and brought her to a standstill just in sight, gazing at the stranger. He remained grave, darkly gazing. Vereker, half-risen, eager to be off, was looking at him in the manner of a hostess arrested in giving the signal for departure. For a moment the man and the child stared at each other, and then she moved stealthily, rounding the table-end. A light came into his unsmiling face. With a rush she was upon him, mouth set, eyes blazing, clenched fists beating upon his breast. “_Eaden_,” she panted, “evil, _evil_ Eaden.” There was no defence, no display of comic fear, no wrist-catching dominance. And when she desisted and stood back still searching him with grave face a little thrust forward in her eagerly-thinking way, he turned more sideways from the table, to attend while hurriedly with the air of one having other business on hand and no time to waste, she catechised him. He answered simply, with just her manner of one cumbered with affairs and eager nevertheless to contrive meetings; devouring all the time with his eyes the strange hurried little face, the round wide eyes set upon something seen afar. They had recognised each other. To the rest of the party she was a quaint, precocious child. This man saw the strange power and beauty of the spirit shining in those eyes almost round, almost protruding, and, if there had been in the blue of them, that toned so gently into the pearly blue surrounding, a shade more intensity of colour, merely brilliant. “You _must_,” she said, her lips closing firmly on her ultimatum, head a little out-thrust, hands behind back. “You’d better go now,” with a glance at the group that had gathered round. She pattered swiftly away to her table in the background. “Daphnee’ll always get what she wants with her nagging,” said the Skerry youth standing by. “She will get what she wants with her beaux yeux,” said Miriam warmly, and saw the little form panting along its ardent way up through life, seeking and testing and never finding, in any living soul. “_Yes_,” groaned Eaden and impatiently sighed away the wrath in his eyes set upon the departing figure of the youth. Again they were lit and gentle and as if still gazing upon Daphne. He sat for a moment, paying tribute to a suddenly found agreement before joining Vereker held up at the door in the little crowd of newly-arriving breakfasters. * * * * *