"Doctor enough for that sort of operation," he replied, smiling. "There is a natural and effective way of treating all bites when one has no artificial remedy handy." "Oh! I don't think it is necessary to trouble you," she said quickly. "The dog is perfectly healthy." "That may be; but it is a wise precaution," he urged. He was quietly insistent; but the girl was determined in her objection, which he had a persuasion arose from prudish reasons rather than indifference to the wound. A feeling of irritation gripped him. He wondered why he should concern himself about her. If she chose to run risks, that was her affair. "I am afraid you consider my interference impertinent," he said. "It was not meant so." Quickly she lifted her eyes, brown, earnest eyes, to his face, and scrutinised him closely. "I am sorry if you really think that," she said. "And it isn't true. I feel only gratitude for your kindness. If I thought there was the least danger I would gladly follow your suggestion. But it's such a trifling matter. I cried out because I was startled. I didn't think you would hear up there by the wall." "I happened to be watching," he said, "and saw what happened. I am glad the injury is only slight. All the same, I wouldn't stand about; a bandage and rest would be advisable." "Yes," she said. She hesitated for a moment, manifestly undecided whether to part without thanking him formally for his kindly interest would not appear rather ungracious. She had been prepared at first to resent his interference. It had annoyed her when he kicked the dog; the action had struck her as brutal, and consistent in a man who gambled away the best of the hours. A mental picture of a sunburnt face, flushed and absorbed in the game, of strong indolent hands fingering the cards, recurred persistently and prejudiced her against him. She wished that she had not discovered him thus engaged. As though he divined the reason of her hesitation, and sought to relieve her of further embarrassment, he glanced rapidly over his shoulder, made some remark about the necessity for following his friend, and turned away. Abruptly the girl held out her hand. "Thank you very much for troubling about me," she said. "There is nothing to thank me for," he answered, facing her again with a lazy smile. "You wouldn't let me render any service." "Because there wasn't any need," she said quickly, as though thinking her refusal needed explaining. "But I am obliged to you for your concern for me." She started to walk up the beach; and the dog, barking remonstrance that she should forsake the sea, remained with its feet planted protestingly in the wet sand in the hope that she would think better of it and return. Matheson walked beside her. "Since we are both bound for the road," he said, "may I go so far with you?"