"Christian!" she exclaimed, "I am sorry I did not know you." They shook
hands, and Molly hastened to introduce her sister's companion.

"Mr. Farrar," she said; "Mr. Vellacott."

The two men shook hands, and Christian was disappointed. The grip of
Farrar's fingers was limp and almost nerveless, in striking
contradiction to the promise of his honest face and well-set person.

"Tea is ready," said Molly somewhat hastily; "let us go in."

Hilda and her companion passed on in front while Molly and Christian
followed them. The latter purposely lagged behind, and his companion
found herself compelled to wait for him.

"Look at the effect of the sunlight through the trees upon that water,"
said he in a conversational way; "it is quite green, and almost
transparent."

"Yes," replied Molly, moving away tentatively, "we see most peculiar
effects over the moat. The water is so very still and deep."

He raised his quiet eyes to her face, upon which the ready smile still
lingered. As she met his gaze she raised her hand and pushed back a few
truant wisps of hair which, curling forward like tendrils, tickled her
cheek. It was a movement he soon learned to know.

"Yes," he said absently. He was wondering in an analytical way whether
the action was habitual with her, or significant of embarrassment. At