chance with her was to defy her.

At the gate leading on to the moor, Meadows resolutely came to a stop.

"Your letters are the merest excuse!" said Lady Dunstable. "I don't
believe you will write one of them! I notice you always put off
unpleasant duties."

"Give me credit at least for the intention."

Smiling, he held the gate open for her, and she passed through,
discomfited, to join Sir Luke on the other side. Mr. Frome, the
Under-Secretary, a young man of Jewish family and amazing talents, who
had been listening with amusement to the conversation behind him, turned
back to say to Meadows, at a safe distance--"Keep it up!--Keep it up!
You avenge us all!"

* * * * *

Presently, as she and her two companions wound slowly up the moor, Sir
Luke Malford, who had only arrived the night before, inquired gaily of
his hostess:

"So she wouldn't come?--the little wife?"

"I gave her every chance. She scorned us."

"You mean--'she funked us.' Have you any idea, I wonder, how alarming
you are?"