curiosity. His hands were still locked upon hers.

Slowly her eyes came down to his.

"Billikins," she said, "let me stay down for a little!" Her lips were
quivering. She kicked his chair agitatedly. "I don't want to go," she
said, dismally. "Let me stay--anyhow--till I get ill!"

"No," Merryon said. "It can't be done, child. I can't risk that.
Besides, there'd be no one to look after you."

She slipped to her feet in a flare of indignation. "You're a pig,
Billikins! You're a pig!" she cried, and tore her hands free. "I've a
good mind to run away from you and never come back. It's what you
deserve, and what you'll get, if you aren't careful!"

She was gone with the words--gone like a flashing insect disturbing the
silence for a moment, and leaving a deeper silence behind.

Merryon looked after her for a second or two, and then philosophically
continued his meal. But the slight frown remained between his brows. The
veranda seemed empty and colourless now that she was gone.




CHAPTER IV

FRIENDS