"Forgive me," she says, smiling wanly, "but I was miles away."
"How interesting. May I not follow you? What did you see?"
"I conjured up a farm-house and green English lanes, gold cornfields, rustic reapers, and honest workers. They were getting in the harvest."
Captain Stevenson's cheery voice, and Quinton's musical laugh interrupts the conversation as they join Eleanor and Major Short.
"It is time we were making tracks. What do you say, Short?"
"I suppose so, but it is always hard to tear oneself away from pleasant companions."
"When shall we meet again?" asks Eleanor gaily. "Can't we arrange a day next week? Ride over in the cool of the morning to breakfast."
"Thanks--delighted. There is a peculiar fascination in your charming home and hearty welcome."
Quinton smiles enigmatically, as he watches them ride away.
"You seem very merry to-day," she says. "They quite enlivened us, didn't they, Carol?"
"Yes; it certainly makes a difference having somebody to speak to. Don't you notice it, dear?"
He looks down at her steadfastly, and for the moment Eleanor's expression turns the unscrupulous man dizzy with a vague sensation nearly approaching regret.
He sees in her eyes the overflowing of a heart; whose passionate adoration amounts to idolatry.
He is touched and softened. He presses her lips, though they no longer thrill him, and she in her mute worship cannot define the change.
Her love, he thinks, so freely given, so utterly beyond control, is after all a pitiable spectacle.
He scrutinises her fair face critically; it seems insipid to him now. Its pale spirituality, which once set his brain on fire, appears characterless. The classical features, exquisitely moulded, lack power. The sweet mouth has a wan droop, as if sighing for ungranted kisses.
"Sometimes, Carol," she says at last, "I fancy you are tiring of me." She only speaks for him to contradict.
"My darling, what an absurd notion to get into that pretty little head of yours! Occasionally it is a little slow here for us both."
"That is only since you grew nervous. Of course, the days are long if you will stay indoors doing nothing."
"Yes, you are quite right," he answers, somewhat to Eleanor's surprise. "It _is_ foolish, and unnecessary. Now you won't grumble, my pet, if I go for a long day's sport to-morrow. It will do me all the good in the world, some excitement and exercise. I have been getting dreadfully grumpy and cross."