Errington tucked the rugs carefully round her, substituting one of them for the coat she was wearing, spoke a few words to the chauffeur, and then seated himself opposite her.

Diana thought the car seemed to be travelling rather slowly as it began the steep ascent from the harbour to the Rectory.  Possibly the chauffeur who had taken his master’s instructions might have thrown some light on the subject had he so chosen.

“Quite warm now?” queried Errington.

Diana snuggled luxuriously into her corner.

“Quite, thanks,” she replied.  “You’re rapidly qualifying as a good Samaritan par excellence, thanks to the constant opportunities I afford you.”

He laughed shortly and relapsed into silence, leaning his elbow on the cushioned ledge beside him and shading his face with his hand.  Beneath its shelter, the keen blue eyes stared at the girl opposite with an odd, thwarted expression in their depths.

Presently Diana spoke again, a tinge of irony in her tones.

“And—­after this—­when next we meet . . . are you going to cut me again? . . .  It must have been very tiresome for you, that an unkind fate insisted on your making my closer acquaintance.”

He dropped his hand suddenly.

“Oh, forgive me!” he exclaimed, with a quick gesture of deprecation.  “It—­it was unpardonable of me . . .”  His voice vibrated with some strong emotion, and Diana regarded him curiously.

“Then you meant it?” she said slowly.  “It was deliberate?”

He bent his head affirmatively.

“Yes,” he replied.  “I suppose you think it unforgivable.  And yet—­and yet it would have been better so.”

“Better?  But why?  I’m generally”—­dimpling a little—­“considered rather nice.”

“’Rather nice’?” he repeated, in a peculiar tone.  “Oh, yes—­that does not surprise me.”

“And some day,” she continued gaily, “although I’m nobody just now, I may become a really famous person—­and then you might be quite happy to know me!”

Her eyes danced with mirth as she rallied him.

He looked at her strangely.

“No—­it can never bring me happiness. . . Ah, mais jamais!” he added, with sudden passion.

Diana was startled.

“It—­it was horrid of you to cut me,” she said in a troubled voice.

“My punishment lies in your hands,” he returned.  “When I leave you at the Rectory—­after to-day—­you can end our acquaintance if you choose.  And I suppose—­you, will choose.  It would be contrary to human nature to throw away such an excellent opportunity for retaliation—­feminine human nature, anyway.”

He spoke with a kind of half-savage raillery, and Diana winced under it.  His moods changed so rapidly that she was bewildered.  At one moment there would be an exquisite gentleness in his manner when he spoke to her, at the next a contemptuous irony that cut like a whip.