rugged lines of his face. "Yes, I see your point. But I can show you
another if you'll listen."

He was holding her two hands as she sat, as though he feared an attempt
to escape. For though Puck sat quite still, it was with the stillness of
a trapped creature that waits upon opportunity.

"Will you listen?" he said.

She nodded.

It was not an encouraging nod, but he proceeded.

"All the women go to the Hills for the hot weather. It's unspeakable
here. No white woman could stand it. And we men get leave by turns to
join them. There is nothing doing down here, no social round whatever.
It's just stark duty. I can't lose much social status that way. It will
serve my turn much better if you go up with the other women and continue
to hold your own there. Not that I care a rap," he added, with masculine
tactlessness. "I am no longer susceptible to snubs."

"Then I shan't go," she said at once, beginning to swing a restless
foot.

"Yes, but you will go," he said. "I wish it."

"You want to get rid of me," said Puck, looking over his head with the
eyes of a troubled child.

Merryon was silent. He was watching her with a kind of speculative