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into the pockets of his white cord riding-breeches, and held out a penny on his open palm.

She shook her head, smiling at him.

“I don’t sell my thoughts,” she said. “Not for so little as that, at any rate.”

It was not the first time they had met this afternoon, and she was conscious that the resentment she had felt towards him during that little scene in the schoolroom five days previously, had evaporated. What had dispelled it? His good looks, his daring horsemanship, the interest he excited in practically all the women present, or his carefully veiled, but none the less persistent pursuit of her? Ann, being honest, knew that all these things had influenced her, but the last of them more potently than all the others. She told herself that she was a vain little flirt, but that didn’t prevent her from smiling into the rather insolent, sleepy-lidded eyes which looked at her so steadily when he was quite sure they happened to be unobserved.

Ann now labored under no delusions as to his intentions. He was quite willing to make love to her, but he was not going to run the risk of having the flirtation discovered by others. “He’s used to this kind of thing,” thought Ann, “the professional philanderer. He’s probably made love to every woman in the district before now.”

She ought to have resented the boldly expressed admiration in his eyes, but she didn’t. She was quite confident of being able to deal with him now; the awkwardness she had felt during their interview in the schoolroom had disappeared. Playing with fire, as a pastime probably began with Eve, but Ann imagined herself warranted fireproof. So she remained