"How like my husband!" said Mrs. Fielding impatiently, fidgeting up and down the long drawing-room with a fretful frown on her pretty face. "Why didn't you put a stop to it, Miss Moore? You might so easily have said that the storm had upset me and I wasn't equal to a visitor at the dinner-table to-night." She paused to look at herself in the gilded mirror above the mantel-piece. "I declare I look positively haggard. I've a good mind to go to bed. Only if I do—" she turned slowly and looked at Juliet—"if I do, he is sure to be brutal about it—unless you tell him you persuaded me."

Juliet, seated in a low chair, with a book on her lap, looked up with a gleam of humour in her eyes. "But I am afraid I haven't persuaded you," she said.

Mrs. Fielding shrugged her white shoulders impatiently. "Oh, of course not! You only persuade me to do a thing when you know that it is the one thing that I would rather die than do."

"Am I as bad as that?" said Juliet.

"Pretty nearly. You're coming to it. I know you are on his side all the time. He knows it too. He wouldn't tolerate you for a moment if you weren't."

"What a horrid accusation!" said Juliet, with a smile.

"The truth generally is horrid," said Mrs. Fielding. "How would you like to feel that everyone is against you?"

"I don't know. I expect I should find a way out somehow. I shouldn't quarrel," said Juliet. "Not with such odds as that!"

"How—discreet!" said Mrs. Fielding, with a sneer.

"Discretion is my watchword," smiled Juliet.

"And very wise too," said Green's voice in the doorway. "How do you do, Mrs. Fielding? As I can't dress, I've been sent down to try and make my peace with you for showing my face here at all. I hope you'll be lenient for once, for really I've had a thorough bullying for my sins."

He came forward with the words. His bearing was absolutely easy though neither he nor his hostess seemed to think of shaking hands.

She looked at him with a disdainful curve of the lips that could scarcely have been described as a smile of welcome. "I imagine it would take a good deal of that sort of thing to make much impression upon you, Mr. Green," she said.

Green's eyes began to shine. He glanced at Juliet. "Really I am much more inoffensive than you seem to think," he said. "I hope you are not going to repeat the dose. I was hoping to secure your forgiveness for what happened this afternoon. Believe me, no one regrets it more sincerely than I do."

Mrs. Fielding drew herself together with a gesture of distaste. "Oh, that! I have no desire whatever to discuss it with you. I have long regarded your half-witted brother as a disgrace to the neighbourhood, and my opinion is scarcely likely to be modified by what happened this afternoon."

"How unfortunate!" said Green.

Again he glanced at Juliet. She lifted her eyes to his. "I am afraid I haven't taken my share of the blame," she said. "But I think you know that I am very sorry for Robin."

"You are always kind," he rejoined gravely.

"How could you be to blame, Miss Moore?" asked Mrs. Fielding.

Juliet turned towards her. "Because Robin and I are friends," she explained simply. "He came here to look for me, and Jack ordered him off. That was the origin of the trouble. And so—" she smiled—"Mr. Green tells me it was my fault."

"He would," commented Mrs. Fielding.

She turned with the words as if Green's proximity were an offence to her, and walked away to the window at the further end of the room.

In the slightly strained pause that followed, Juliet bent to fondle Columbus who was sitting pressed against her and her book slid from her lap to the ground. Green stooped swiftly and picked it up.

"What is it? May I look?"

She held out her hand for it. "It is Marionettes,—Dene Strange's latest. Mrs. Fielding lent it to me."

He kept the book in his hand. "I thought you said you wouldn't read any more of that man's stuff."

She knitted her brows a little. "Did I say so? I don't remember."

He looked down at her keenly. "You said you hated the man and his work."

She began to smile. "Well, I do—in certain moods. But I've got to read him all the same. Everyone does."

"Surely you don't follow the crowd!" he said.

She laughed—her sweet, low laugh. "Surely I do! I'm one of them."

He made a sharp gesture. "That's just what you are not. I say, Miss Moore, don't read this book! It won't do you any good, and it'll make you very angry. You'll call it cynical, insincere, cold-blooded. It will hurt your feelings horribly."

"I don't think so," said Juliet. "You forget,—I am no longer—a marionette. I have come to life."

Again she held out her hand for the book. He gave it to her reluctantly.

"Don't read it!" he said.

She shook her head, still smiling. "No, Mr. Green, I'm not going to let you censor my reading. I will tell you what I think of it next time we meet."

"Don't!" he said again very earnestly.

But Juliet would not yield. She stooped again over Columbus and fondled his ear.

Green stood looking down at her, his dark face somewhat grim, his eyes extremely bright.

"I believe he's cross with us, Christopher," murmured Juliet. "Never mind, old thing! We shall get over it if he doesn't. Being cross always hurts oneself the most. We're—never cross, are we, Christopher? We please ourselves and we please each other—always."

Columbus grunted appreciatively and leaned harder against her. He liked to be included in the conversation.

Green suddenly bent and pulled the other ear. "You're a jolly lucky chap,
Columbus," he said. "I'll change places with you any day in the week."

Columbus smiled at him indulgently, and edged his nose onto his mistress's knee. He knew his position was secure.

"Don't you listen to him, Christopher!" said Juliet. "He wouldn't be in your place two minutes. If I dared to thwart him in anything, he'd turn and rend me."

"He wouldn't," said Green decidedly. "Anyone else—perhaps, but his mistress—never."

Columbus yawned. The topic did not interest him. But Juliet laughed again, and for a moment her eyes glanced upwards, meeting the man's look.

"Is that a promise?" she asked lightly.

"My word of honour," he said.

"How generous!" said Juliet. "And how rash!"

Mrs. Fielding looked round from the window and spoke fretfully. "The storm seems to have made it more oppressive than ever," she complained. "I believe it is coming up again."

"I hope not," said Green.

Juliet got up quietly and moved to join her—a tall woman of gracious outlines with the poise of a princess.

"You know all about everything," she said to him, in passing. "Come and read the weather for us!"

He followed her. They stood together at the open French window, looking out on to the stormy sunset.

"It isn't coming back," said Green, after a pause.

Mrs. Fielding gave him a brief, contemptuous glance. Juliet regarded him more openly, a glint of mockery in her eyes.

"You are sure to be right," she said.

He made her a bow. "Many thanks, Miss Moore! I think I am on this occasion at least. We shall have a fine day for the Graydown races to-morrow."

"Are you keen on racing?" asked Juliet.

He laughed. "I've no time for frivolities of that sort."

"You could make time if you wanted to," observed Mrs. Fielding. "You are free on Saturday."

"Am I?" said Green.

She challenged him in sudden exasperation. "Well, what do you do on your off days?"

He considered for a moment. "I'll tell you what I'm doing to-morrow, if you like," he said. "In the morning I hold a swimming class for all who care to attend. In the afternoon I've got a cricket match. And in the evening I'm running an open-air concert at High Shale with Ashcott."

"For those wretched miners!" exclaimed Mrs. Fielding.

He nodded. "Yes, and their wives and their babies. They are rather amusing shows sometimes. We use native talent of course. I believe you would be interested, Miss Moore."

"I am sure I should," said Juliet. "May I come to one some day?"

He faced her boldly. "Will you help at one—some day?"

"Oh, really!" broke in Mrs. Fielding. "That is too much. I am sure my husband would never agree to that."

"I don't know why he shouldn't," said Juliet gently. "But the point is—should I be any good?"

"You sing," said Green with confidence.

She smiled. "Who told you so?"

His brows worked humorously. "It's one of the things I know without being told. Would you be afraid to venture yourself in that rough crowd with only me to take care of you?"

"Not in the least," said Juliet.

"Thank you," he said. "You would certainly have no need to be. You would have an immense reception."

"I am quite sure my husband would never allow it," said Mrs. Fielding with a frown. "These High Shale people are so hopelessly disreputable—such a drunken, lawless lot."

"But not beyond redemption," said Green quickly, "if anyone takes the trouble."

She shrugged her shoulders. "There are not many people who have time to waste over them. In any case, the responsibility lies at Lord Wilchester's door—not ours."

"And as Lord Wilchester happens to be a rotter, they must go to the wall," remarked Green.

"Well, it is no business of ours," maintained Mrs. Fielding. "I always leave that sort of thing to the busybodies who enjoy it."

"What a good idea!" said Green. "Do you know I never thought of that?"

"Tell me about the cricket match!" Juliet said, intervening. "Who is playing?"

He gave her a glance of quizzical understanding. "Oh, that's a village affair too—Little Shale versus Fairharbour, most of them fisher-lads, all of them sports. I have the honour to be captain of the Little Shale team."

"You seem to be everything," she said.

"Jack of all trades!" sneered Mrs. Fielding.

Green laughed. "I was just going to say that."

"How original of you!" said Juliet. "Well, I hope you'll win."

"He is the sort of person who always comes out on top whether he wins or loses," said Fielding, striding up the long room at the moment. "You've not seen him play cricket yet, Miss Moore. He's a positive tornado on the cricket-ground. To-morrow's Saturday, isn't it? Where are you playing, Dick?"

His good-humour was evidently fully restored. He slapped a hand on Dick's shoulder with the words. Mrs. Fielding's lips turned downwards at the action.

"We are playing the Fairharbour crowd, sir, on Lord Saltash's ground," said Green. "It's in Burchester Park. You know the place don't you? It's just above the town."

"Yes, yes, I know it. A fine place. Pity it doesn't belong to somebody decent," said the squire.

Mrs. Fielding laughed unpleasantly. "Dear me! More wicked lords?"

Her husband looked at her with his quick frown. "I thought everybody knew Saltash was a scoundrel. It's common talk that he's in Paris at this moment entertaining that worthless jade, Lady Joanna Farringmore."

Juliet gave a violent start at the words. For a moment her face flamed red, then went dead white—so white that she almost looked as if she would faint. Then, in a very low voice, "It may be common talk," she said, "but—I am quite sure—it isn't true."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the squire. "My dear Miss Moore, pray forgive me! I forgot you knew her."

She smiled at him, still with that ashen face. "Yes, I know her. At least—I used to. And—she may have been heartless—I think she was;—but she wasn't—that."

"Not when you knew her perhaps," said Mrs. Fielding's scornful voice. She had no sympathy with people who regarded it as a duty to stand up for their unworthy friends. "But since you quarrelled with her yourself on account of her disgraceful behaviour you are scarcely in a position to defend her."

"No—I know," said Juliet, and she spoke nervously, painfully. "But—I must defend her on—a point of honour."

She did not look at Green. Yet instantly and very decidedly he entered the breach. "Quite so," he said. "We are all entitled to fair play—though we don't always get it when our backs are turned. I take off my hat to you, Miss Moore, for your loyalty to your friends."

She gave him a quick glance without speaking.

From the door the butler announced dinner, and they all turned.

"Miss Moore, I apologize," said the squire, and offered her his arm.

She took it, her hand not very steady. "Please forget it!" she said.

He smiled at her kindly as he led her from the room, and began to speak of other things.

Green sauntered behind with his hostess. His eyes were extremely bright, and he made no attempt to make conversation as he went.