“Suppose I make it mine?”

“You are both silly and insulting; do you know it?”

Flushed, breathing rapidly, we sat facing each other; and I could have shaken the little vixen, so furious was I at myself as well as at her.

“Very well,” said I, “continue to play with hell-fire if you like.  I’m done with you and with him, too.”

“And I with you,” she said between her teeth.  “And if you were not the honest-meaning marplot that you are, Mr. Boyd should teach you a lesson!”

“I’ll teach him one now,” said I, springing to my feet and gone quite blind with rage so that I was obliged to stand still a moment before I could discover Boyd where he stood by the open door, trying to converse with Mrs. Lansing, but watching us both with unfeigned amazement.

“Euan!”

Lana’s voice arrested me, and I halted and turned, striving to remember decency and that I was conducting like a very boor.  This was neither the time nor place to force a quarrel on any man....  And Lana was right.  I had no earthly warrant to interfere if she gave me none; perhaps no spiritual warrant either.

Still shaken and confused by the sudden fury which had invaded me, and now sullenly mortified by my own violence and bad manners, I stood with one hand resting on the banisters, forcing myself to look at Lana and take the punishment that her scornful eyes were dealing me.

“Are you coming to your senses?"” she asked coldly.

“Yes,” I said.  “I ask your pardon.”

A moment more we gazed at each other, then suddenly her under lip trembled and her eyes filled.

“Forgive me,” she stammered.  “You are a better friend to me than—­ many....  I am not angry, Euan.”

At that I could scarce control my own voice: 

“Lanette—­ little Lana!  Find it in your generous heart to offer me my pardon, for I have conducted like a yokel and a fool!  But—­ but I really do love you.”

“I know it, Euan.  I did not know it was in me to use you so cruelly.  Let us be friends again.  Will you?”

“Will you, Lana?”

“Willingly—­ oh, with all my heart!  And—­ I am not very happy, Euan.  Bear with me a little....  There is a letter come from Clarissa; perhaps it is that which edges my tongue and temper—­ the poor child is so sad and lonely, so wretchedly unhappy—­ and Sir John riding the West with all his hellish crew!  And she has no news of him—­ and asks it of me——­”

She descended a step and stood on the stair beside

me, looking up at me very sweetly, and resting her hand lightly on my shoulder—­ a caress so frank and unconcealed that it meant no more then its innocent significance implied.  But at that moment, by chance, I encountered Lois’s eyes fixed on me in cold surprise.  And, being a fool, and already unnerved, I turned red as a pippin, as though I were guilty, and looked elsewhere till the heat cooled from my cheeks.