it straight, and began searching for a handkerchief up her sleeve and in
her belt, but none was to be found.

So Mr. Arranstoun handed her a clean one he chanced to have in his
pocket. "I expect you want to wipe the smudge of dirt off your face," he
hazarded.

She took it laughing, and showing an even row of beautiful teeth between
red, full baby lips.

"You are the owner of this castle," she went on, as she gave firm rubs
at the velvet pink cheeks. "That must be nice. You can do what you like,
I suppose," and here a sigh of regret escaped and made her voice lower.

"I wish I _could_," Mr. Arranstoun answered feelingly.

"Well, if I were _a man_, I would!"

"What would you do?"

She turned and faced him, while she said, with extreme solemnity:

"I should never marry Mr. Greenbank."

Michael laughed.

"I don't suppose you would if you were a man!" At this moment, a footman
answered the bell. "Bring tea, please," his master ordered, inwardly
amused at the servant's astonished face, and then when they were alone
again, he continued his sympathetic questioning.