"I have asked her three times," replied her lover shortly. "I'm not going
to be her dog, and creep to her feet, just to give her the pleasure of
kicking me--not for you, Em, nor for anybody else."

"Oh, I didn't know you had asked her, Greg," said his little betrothed,
humbly; and she went away to pour out coffee.

Nevertheless, some time after Gregory found he had shifted so far round the
room as to be close to the door where Lyndall sat. After standing for some
time he inquired whether he might not bring her a cup of coffee.

She declined; but still he stood on (why should he not stand there as well
as anywhere else?), and then he stepped into the bedroom.

"May I not bring you a stove, Miss Lyndall, to put your feet on?"

"Thank you."

He sought for one, and put it under her feet.

"There is a draught from that broken window: shall I stuff something in
the pane?"

"No, we want air."

Gregory looked round, but nothing else suggesting itself, he sat down on a
box on the opposite side of the door. Lyndall sat before him, her chin
resting in her hand; her eyes, steel-grey by day, but black by night,
looked through the doorway into the next room. After a time he thought she
had entirely forgotten his proximity, and he dared to inspect the little