angry with herself for not feeling angrier still. She had heard quite
enough; it were weakness to listen to another word; and yet--and yet--

"Don't go," said Rachel, with some petulance; "that is quite
unnecessary. Anything more extraordinary--but I owe you too much already
to be your critic. Still, I do think I am entitled to go a little
further into the matter, as you said, without committing myself."

"To be sure you are."

But this time he remained standing; and for once he kept those mesmeric
eyes to himself. Obviously, Rachel was to have a chance.

"You spoke of your own country," she began. "Do you live abroad?"

There was the least suspicion of eagerness in the question. Rachel
herself was unaware of it; not so Mr. Steel, and he sighed.

"A mere figure," he said; "what I meant was my own country-side."

"And where is that?"

"In the north," he replied vaguely. "Did you look twice at my card?
Well, here is another, if you will do me that honor now. The initials
J. B. stand for no very interesting names--John Buchanan. A certain
interest in the Buchanan, perhaps; it comes out in the flesh, I fancy,
though not on the tongue. As for the address, Normanthorpe House is the
rather historic old seat of the family of that name; but they have so
many vastly superior and more modern places, and the last fifty years
have so ruined the surroundings, that I was able to induce the Duke to