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Columbine also checked herself at sight of him, but the red blood was throbbing at her temples. There was no hiding her agitation.

“You seem in a hurry,” remarked Knight. “I hope there is nothing wrong.”

His chin was modelled on firm lines, but there was a very distinct cleft in it that imparted to him the look of one who could smile at most things. His words were kindly, but they did not hold any very deep concern.

Columbine came to a stand, gripping the back of a chair to steady herself. “Oh, I–I have been–insulted!” she panted.

The straight brows went up a little; the man himself stiffened slightly. Without further words he moved across to the door into the conservatory and looked through it. He was in time to see Rufus’s great, lounging figure sauntering away in the direction of the wood-yard.

Knight stood a moment or two and watched him, then quietly turned and rejoined the girl.

She was still leaning upon the chair, but she was gradually recovering her self-control. As he drew near she made a slight movement as if to resume her interrupted flight. But some other impulse intervened, and she remained where she was.

Knight came up and stood beside her. “What has he been doing to annoy you?” he asked.

She made a small, vehement gesture of disgust. “Oh, we won’t talk of him. He is an oaf. I dare say he doesn’t know any better, but he’ll never have a chance of doing it again. I don’t mix with the riff-raff.”

“He’s Adam’s son, isn’t he?” questioned Knight.

She nodded. “Yes, the great, hulking lubber! Adam’s all right. I like Adam. But Rufus–well, Rufus is a bounder, and I’ll never have anything more to say to him.”

“I think you are quite right to hold your head up above these fisher fellows,” remarked Knight, his grey eyes watching her with an appraising expression. “They are as much out of place near you as a bed of bindweed would be in the neighbourhood of a passion-flower.” His glance took in her still panting bosom. “I think you are something of a passion-flower,” he said, faintly smiling. “I wonder at any man daring to risk offending you.”

Columbine stood up with the free movement of a disdainful princess. “Oh, he’s just a lout,” she said. “He doesn’t know any better. It isn’t as if you had done it.”

“That would have been different, would it?” said Knight.

She smiled, but a sombre light still shone in her eyes. “Quite different,” she said with simplicity. “You see, you’re a gentleman. And–gentlemen–don’t do unpleasant things like that.”

He laughed a little. “You make me feel quite nervous. What a shocking thing it would be if I ever did anything to forfeit your good opinion.”

“You couldn’t,” said Columbine.

“Couldn’t!” He repeated the word with an odd inflection.

“It wouldn’t be you,” she explained with the utmost gravity, as one stating an irrefutable fact.

“Thank you,” said Knight.

“Oh, it’s not a compliment,” she returned. “It’s just the truth. There are some people–a few people–that one knows one can trust through and through. And you are one of them, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” said Knight. “You know, that’s rather–a colossal thing–to say of any one.”

“Then you are colossal,” said Columbine, smiling more freely.

Knight turned aside, and picked up the sketch-book he had laid upon the table on entering. “Are you sure you are not rash?” he said, rather in the tone of one making a remark than asking a question.

“Fairly sure,” said Columbine.

She followed him. Perhaps he had foreseen that she would. She stood by his side.

“May I see the latest?” she asked.

He opened the book and showed her a blank page. “That is the latest,” he said.

She looked at him interrogatively.

“I am waiting for my–inspiration,” he said.

“I hope you will find it soon,” she said.

He answered her with steady conviction. “I shall find it tonight by moonlight at the Spear Point Rock.”

Her face clouded a little. “I believe Adam is going to take you,” she said.