much experience."

"How old are you?" he asked bluntly.

This time it certainly seemed as though her reply would contain
some rebuke for his curiosity. She glanced once more into his
face, however, and the instinctive desire to administer that
well-deserved snub passed away. He was so obviously interested,
his question was asked so naturally, that its spice of
impertinence was as though it had not existed.

"I am twenty-one," she told him.

"And how long have you lived here?"

"Since I left boarding-school, four years ago."

"Anywhere near where I am going to bury myself for a time, I wonder?"
he went on.

"That depends," she replied. "Our only neighbours are the
Lorneybrookes of Market Burnham. Are you going there?"

He shook his head.

"I've got a little shanty of my own," he explained, "quite close to
St. David's Station. I've never even seen it yet."

She vouchsafed some slight show of curiosity.