“You do not look well,” she said.

“That,” said Deringham dryly, “is quite possible.  Things are not going well with me just now.”

“Business worries?” said the girl.

Deringham nodded.  “And domestic too, if the affairs of Carnaby come under that heading.  In fact, I am hemmed in by difficulties I cannot see a way through, and to make it worse Alton will come to no decision until he has sent somebody over to report upon the property.  I have wondered now and then if he was talking altogether at random when he told you that he was willing to give it you.”

“Of course!” said his daughter, smiling outwardly to cover her indignation.  “It would be preposterous to think that I could accept such a favour even if he had the slightest intention of relinquishing his claim!”

“Yes,” said Deringham dryly.  “Still, I fancy there are young women who would not disdain to be mistress of Carnaby.”

The girl straightened herself a little, and the colour crept into her face.  “Do not be foolish, father.  You cannot fancy that the man was speaking seriously.”

“I don’t know,” said Deringham.  “I am not sure that he does himself, and if you do not, there is an end of the affair.  Still, if there had been anything in the speech the possibility alluded to would have lifted a great load from me.”

He said nothing further, but passed on, leaving the girl standing on the verandah with head bent a trifle, and a face that was less cold in colouring than usual.  Presently, however, she stood upright suddenly as Alton came up the stairway, but not before he had seen her.  After a swift glance at her he put his hand gently on her shoulder.

“You are in some trouble.  Can’t you tell me what it is?” he said.

Alice Deringham could just see his face in the moonlight, and it was gravely compassionate, but there was in it, none of the personal admiration she had sometimes noticed there, which had its effect upon her attitude towards him.  He was, she felt, sorry for her because she was a woman menaced by some difficulty, and that she should be an object of pity to this bush rancher stung the pride, of which she had a good deal.  Had he tendered his sympathy because she was Alice Deringham it is possible that she would have told him something, though not exactly the simple state of the case.  As it was, however, she shook his hand off, and looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes.

“Why should you suppose that, and venture to presume upon it?” she said.

“Would it be presuming?”

“It would,” said the girl very coldly.

“Then,” said Alton, “you can’t tell me?”

“No, of course not.  Is there any reason why I should?”

Here at least was an opportunity, but if the man desired to gain his companion’s confidence he made an indifferent use of it.  “We are some kind of relations, and you promised to be friends with me,” he said.