Michael felt a little piqued with curiosity; she was a diversion after
his perplexing, irritating meditations.

"It would be so interesting to hear why you ran away--the whole story?"
he suggested.

The girl turned her head and looked out of the window, showing a dear
little baby profile, and masses of light brown hair rolled up anyhow at
the back. She did not look older than seventeen at the outside, and was
peculiarly childish and slender for that.

"But I should have to tell you from the beginning, and it is so
long--and you are a stranger."

Michael drew another chair nearer to her, and sat down, while his manner
took on a note of grave, elderly concern, which rather belied the
twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Never mind that--I am sympathetic, and I am your host--and, by
Jove!--won't you have some tea! You look awfully tired and--dusty," and
he rang the bell, and then reseated himself. "See, to be quite orthodox,
we will make our own introduction--I am Michael Arranstoun--and you
are----?"

The girl rose and made him a polite bow. "I am Sabine Delburg," she
announced. He bowed also--and then she went into a peal of silvery
laughter that seemed to contain all the glad notes of spring and youth.
"Oh, this is fun! and I--I should like some tea!" She caught sight of
herself in an old mirror, which stood upon a commode. "Goodness, what a
guy I look! Why didn't you tell me that my hat was crooked!" She settled