She laughed.

"Well, just be 'only Sheila,"' he answered admiringly, and he held out a
hand to her. "I wouldn't have you be anything else, though it's none of
my business."

For one swift instant she hesitated; then she laid her hand in his.

"There's no reason why we should not," she said. "Your father's
respectable."

She looked at him again with a sidelong glance, and with a whimsical,
reserved smile at her lips.

"Yes, he's respectable, I agree, but he's dull," answered Dyck. "For an
Irishman, he's dull--and he's a tyrant, too. I suppose I deserve that,
for I'm a handful."

"I think you are, and a big handful too!"

"Which way are you going?" he asked presently.

"And you?"

"Oh, I'm bound for home." He pointed across the valley. "Do you see
that smoke coming up from the plantation over there?"

"Yes, I know," she answered. "I know. That's Playmore, your father's
place. Loyland Towers is between here and there. Which way were you
going there?"