said the Squire, frowning. And he stalked in front of her along the
library passage, his brilliant white hair gleaming in its shadows.
It was well perhaps that he did not see the amusement which played
round Elizabeth Bremerton's handsome mouth as she pursued him.

* * * * *

Tea was laid on a flagged walk under a glazed pergola running along
part of the southern wall of the house. Here Pamela was sitting
waiting, with a basket of knitting on her knee which she put out of
sight as soon as she heard her father's step. She had taken off her
hat, and her plentiful brown hair was drawn in a soft wave across
her forehead, and thickly coiled behind a shapely head. She was very
young, and very pretty. Perhaps the impression of youth
predominated, youth uncertain of itself, conscious rather of its own
richness and force than of any definite aims or desires. Her
expression was extremely reserved. A veil seemed to lie over her
deep, heavy-lidded eyes, and over features that had now delicacy and
bloom, but promised much more--something far beyond any mere girlish
prettiness. She was tall and finely made, and for the school
tableaux in which she had frequently helped she had been generally
cast for such parts as 'Nausicaa among her maidens,' 'Athene
lighting the way for Odysseus and Telemachus,' 'Dante's Beatrice,'
or any other personage requiring dignity, even a touch of majesty.
Flowing skirts, indeed, at once made a queen of her. It was evident
that she was not at her ease with her father; nor, as yet, with her
father's new secretary.

The contrast between this lady and Pamela Mannering was obvious at
once. If Pamela suggested romance, Elizabeth Bremerton suggested