She could not keep the tears from springing to her eyes, strive as she would.  He was so different—­so different.  He might have been a total stranger, sitting there beside her.

Yet as he looked at her, she felt something of the old quick thrill; for the blue eyes regarded her with a slightly warmer interest as he said, “I can’t answer for the de Vignes of course, but it doesn’t seem to me that either they or I have had much cause for complaint.  I shouldn’t fret about that if I were you.”

She commanded herself with an effort.  “I don’t.  Only it isn’t nice to feel a burden to anyone, is it?  You wouldn’t like it, would you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, with his easy arrogance.  “I think I should expect to be waited on if I were ill.  You’ve had rather a bad time, I’m afraid.  But you haven’t missed much.  The weather has been villainous.”

“I’ve missed all the dances,” said Dinah, stifling a sob.

He began to smile.  “I wish I had.  I haven’t enjoyed one of them.”

That comforted her a little.  At least Rose had not scored an unqualified victory!  “You’ve been bored?” she asked.

“Horribly bored,” said Sir Eustace.  “There’s been no fun for anyone since the weather broke.”

She gathered her courage in both hands.  “And so you’re going home?” she said, and lay in quivering dread of his answer.

He did not make one immediately.  He seemed to be considering the matter.  “There doesn’t seem to be much point in staying on,” he said finally, “unless things improve.”

“But they will improve,” said Dinah quickly.  “At least—­at least they ought to.”

“A fortnight of bad weather isn’t particularly encouraging,” he remarked.

“Of course it isn’t!  It’s horrid,” she agreed.  “But every day makes it less likely that it will last much longer.  And I expect it’s much worse in England,” she added.

“I wonder,” said Sir Eustace.  “There’s the hunting anyway.”

“Oh no; it would freeze directly you got there,” she said, with a shaky little laugh.  “And then you would wish you had stayed here.”

“I could shoot,” said Sir Eustace.

“And there is the Hunt Ball, isn’t there?” said Dinah with more assurance.

He looked at her keenly.  “What Hunt Ball?”

She met his eyes with a faint challenge in her own.  “I heard you were going to stay with the de Vignes.  They always go to the Hunt Ball every year.”

“Do you go?” asked Sir Eustace.

She shook her head.  “No.  I never go anywhere.”

She saw his eyes soften unexpectedly as he said, “Then there isn’t much inducement for me to go, is there?”

Her heart gave a wild throb of half-incredulous delight.  She made a small movement of one hand towards him, and quite suddenly she found it grasped in his.  He bent to her with a laugh in his eyes.

“Shall we go on with the game,—­Daphne?” he whispered.  “Are you well enough?”