There fell a most unexpected silence.

She broke it with words imploring, almost agonised.  “Nick!  Nick!  Come and speak to me—­for Heaven’s sake!”

His flippant voice greeted her at once in a tone of cheerful inquiry.  “That you, Muriel?”

Her agitation began to subside of itself.  Nothing could have been more casual than his question.  “Yes,” she said in reply.  “Why are you out there?  Why don’t you come in?”

“My dear girl,—­at this hour!” There was shocked reproof in the ejaculation.  Nick was evidently scandalised at the suggestion.

Muriel lost her patience forthwith.  Was it for this that she had spent all those miserable hours of fruitless heart-searching?  His trifling was worse than ridiculous.  It was insufferable.

“You are to come in at once,” she said, in a tone of authority.

“What for?” said Nick.

“Because—­because—­” She hesitated, and stopped, her face burning.

“Because—­” said Nick encouragingly.

“Oh, don’t be absurd!” she exclaimed in desperation.  “How can I possibly talk to you there?”

“It depends upon what you want to say,” said Nick.  “If it is something particularly private—­” He paused.

“Well?” she said.

“You can always come to me, you know,” he pointed out.  “But I shouldn’t do that, if I were you.  It would be neither dignified nor proper.  And a girl in your position, dearest Muriel, cannot be too discreet.  It is the greatest mistake in the world to act upon impulse.  Let me entreat you to do nothing headlong.  Take another year or so to think things over.  There are so many nice men to choose from, and this absurd infatuation of yours cannot possibly last.”

“Don’t, Nick!” Muriel’s voice held a curious mixture of mirth and sadness.  “It—­it isn’t a bit funny to talk like that.  It isn’t even particularly kind.”

“Ye gods!” said Nick.  “Who wants to be kind?”

“Not you, evidently,” she told him with a hint of bitterness.  “You only aim at being intelligent.”

“Well, you’ll admit I hit the mark sometimes,” he rejoined.  “I’m like a rat, eh?  Clever but loathsome.”

She uttered a quivering laugh.  “No, you are much more like an eagle, waiting to strike.  Why don’t you, I wonder, and—­and take what you want?”

Nick’s answering laugh had a mocking note in it.  “Oh, I can play Animal Grab as well as anybody—­better than most,” he said modestly.  “But I don’t chance to regard this as a suitable occasion for displaying my skill.  Uninteresting for you, of course, but then you are fond of running away when there is no one after you.  It’s been your favourite pastime for almost as long as I have known you.”

The sudden silence with which this airy remark was received had in it something tragic.  Muriel had sunk down on a garden-bench close at hand, lacking the strength to go away.  It was exactly what she had expected.  He meant to take his revenge in his own peculiar fashion.  She had laid herself open to this, and mercilessly, unerringly, he had availed himself of the opportunity to wound.  She might have known!  She might have known!  Had he not done it again and again?  Oh, she had been a fool—­a fool—­to call him back!