trunks and the noise of the saws. Ah, there is your petrol." A
workman had appeared with a red can of Shell. "Well, Mr. Merriman,
a pleasant journey to you. You will excuse my not going farther
with you, but I am really supposed to be busy." He turned to his
daughter with a smile. "You, Madeleine, can see Mr. Merriman to
the road?"

He shook hands, declined Merriman's request to be allowed to pay
for the petrol and, cutting short the other's thanks with a wave
of his arm, turned back to the shed.

The two young people strolled slowly back across the clearing,
the girl evidently disposed to make the most of the unwonted
companionship, and Merriman no less ready to prolong so delightful
an interview. But in spite of the pleasure of their conversation,
he could not banish from his mind the little incident which had
taken place, and he determined to ask a discreet question or two
about it.

"I say," he said, during a pause in their talk, "I'm afraid I upset
your lorry man somehow. Did you notice the way he looked at me?"

The girl's manner, which up to this had been easy and careless,
changed suddenly, becoming constrained and a trifle self-conscious.
But she answered readily enough.

"Yes, I saw it. But you must not mind Henri. He was badly
shell-shocked, you know, and he has never been the same since."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Merriman apologized, wondering if the man could