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“You’ll have to go slow while she’s with us, old man. I want her to see as much of the country as possible, if it’s only to make her sorry she didn’t come before. Business must take a second place when we’ve got this sort of visitor, Alick.”

“But I really don’t need entertaining, Uncle Markham,” Pamela protested, “and why can’t I ride with you?”

“I never ride, my dear—don’t like it. No, no, Alick will take you. He knows all the places of interest, beauty-spots, and so on, about. And it’ll do him good to have a sort of holiday.”

Alick did everything, apparently—both business and pleasure-schemes were left to him. Well, he looked capable, and no doubt he meant to be nice to her in his own way, but she did wish he would not stare so. She turned to her uncle again, but he was making for his own small smokingroom, pipes not being permitted in the “parlour" where they were sitting. Pamela’s wandering gaze rested for a moment on her aunt’s colourless face and found something there which surprised her considerably. Mrs. Learmonth, sitting silent and impassive, was looking after her husband’s departing figure. She did not speak or move, but into her eyes had crept a sudden gleam of light—round that somewhat grim mouth there was a hint of tenderness. Pamela felt she had surprised a secret and looked away again. Her Aunt Rosa loved her uncle, then That explained something. Pamela felt warmer and more inclined for friendliness. . . . Curious, too—how interesting and queer people were! And this was the way one really got to know them, travelling about by oneself, meeting and studying different types. That was the best way to look at them if they were not congenial—as types. They need not affect one personally at all. She turned again to Alick Power, checked her instinctive annoyance at finding his eyes still fixed on her in