Anne. I never dare say my soul's my own in the presence of that woman."

Val strolled away as he spoke. He was not at ease that day, and the
sharp, meddling old woman would have been intolerable. It was all very
well to put a good face on matters to Anne, but he was in more perplexity
than he cared to confess to. It seemed to him that he would rather die
than give up Anne: and yet--in the straightforward, practical good sense
of Dr. Ashton, he had a formidable adversary to deal with.

He suddenly found an arm inserted within his own, and saw it was his
brother. Walking together thus, there was a great resemblance between
them.

They were of the same height, much the same build; both were very
good-looking men, but Percival had the nicer features; and he was fair,
and his brother dark.

"What is this, Val, about a dispute with the doctor?" began Lord
Hartledon.

"It was not a dispute," returned Val. "There were a few words, and I was
hasty. However, I begged his pardon, and we parted good friends."

"Under a flag of truce, eh?"

"Something of that sort."

"Something of that sort!" repeated Lord Hartledon. "Don't you think, Val,
it would be to your advantage if you trusted me more thoroughly than you
do? Tell me the whole truth of your position, and let me see what can be