carried on his arm, for his pipe.

She drew a little nearer to him. "Mr. Courteney," she said, "doesn't
'Thank you' sound a silly thing to say?"

He drew back. "Don't! Please don't!" he said, and flushed uneasily as he
opened his tobacco-pouch. "I would infinitely rather you said nothing at
all to any one. Don't do it again, that's all."

"Mustn't I even tell Rosa Mundi?" she said.

His flush deepened as he remembered that she would probably know him by
name. She must have known in those far-off Australian days that he was
working with all his might to free young Baron from her toils.

He sat in silence till, "Will you tell me something?" whispered
Rosemary, leaning nearer.

He stiffened involuntarily. "I don't know."

"Please try!" she urged softly. "I feel sure you can. Why--why don't you
like Rosa Mundi?"

He looked at her, and his eyes were steely; but they softened by
imperceptible degrees as they met the earnest sweetness of her answering
look. "No, I can't tell you that," he said with decision.

But her look held him. "Is it because you don't think she is very good?"

"I can't tell you," he said again.