"Not exactly," she said; "but Mr. Griffin has quick discernment, and is
unhesitating in action. He saw someone about to--make himself, let us
say, unpleasant--and he moved promptly. I am glad of this chance to
thank him."

Mark hoped she would not try. The heavily lashed eyes of violet blue,
under the graceful arches, were doing that splendidly. Mark was uneasy
under the gaze of them, but strangely glad. He wanted to go and yet to
stay; but he knew that it was proper to go.

Father Murray walked with him to the end of the lawn.

"There was nothing serious in the matter to which Miss Atheson
referred, Mr. Griffin?" he said. "No one offered insult?" He was
plainly anxious.

"Not at all," answered Mark. "I think the man only wanted to stare. I
gave him a chance to stare at me--and at the water. That is all."

Father Murray looked relieved as he clasped Mark's hand.

"Good-bye," he said. "Come to see me again. I am usually alone. Come
often. The latch-string is where you can reach it."

In the street Mark met Saunders, but this time it was the agent who
wanted to talk.

"How did you like the Padre?" he began.

"Splendid. Thank you for the meeting."