But the smile he bestowed on Nan when he answered her redeemed the
ugliness of his face considerably. It was the smile of a man who could
be both kindly and generous where his prejudices were not involved, who
might even be capable of something rather big if occasion warranted it.

"It was too bad of me to startle you like that," he acknowledged.
"Please forgive me. I caught sight of you both through the trees and
declared myself rather too suddenly."

"Always a mistake," commented Nan, nodding wisely.

Roger Trenby regarded her doubtfully. She was extraordinarily
attractive, this slim young woman from London who was staying at
Mallow, but she not infrequently gave utterances to remarks which,
although apparently straight-forward enough, yet filled him with a
vague, uneasy feeling that they held some undercurrent of significance
which had eluded him.

He skirted the quicksand hastily, and turned the conversation to a
subject where be felt himself on sure ground.

"I've been exercising hounds to-day."

Trenby was Master of the Trevithick Foxhounds, and had the reputation
of being one of the finest huntsmen in the county, and his heart and
his pluck and a great deal of his money went to the preserving of it.

"Oh," cried Nan warmly, "why didn't you bring them round by Mallow
before you went back to the kennels?"