the masked horseman had Blake's eyes gleaming through his visor.
"Elsie," Hallett said suddenly, "I am sure that you are dreadfully tired. You haven't said a word for a quarter of an hour."
"Haven't I—not said a word? I thought I was saying—oh, all kinds of clever and brilliant things. Yes, I am tired."
"We shall soon be at home. There are the lights across the creek from the men's huts. Have you enjoyed your day?"
"Enjoyed my day? Yes, I have had a very happy day. I shall always remember to-day."
"I am glad of that, since it was I who suggested the picnic, though, to be sure, Blake has had more to do with the carrying out of it. You have been talking to Blake a great deal to-day, Elsie?"
"Yes."
"Do you like him?"
"Yes—no. I don't know. I think I hate him."
"Why, Elsie! You began by saying you liked him."
"I wasn't thinking."
"Then it is clear that it is not Blake who has made you enjoy to-day. And you ought to tell Lady Horace, for she was talking about him, and she seemed uneasy, and she made me uneasy too," said Hallett.
"What about?" asked Elsie.
"She thought he was getting, a kind of influence over you, and that it would lead to no good. It will be a relief to her to know that you don't like him."
"No, I don't like him. I will tell Ina so. Frank, tell me, do you think Ina is happy?"
"Honestly, I don't think she is. But Lord Horace is a harum-scarum chap, and makes her anxious perhaps. By-and-by he will tone down."
"I will tell you what I think. Horace is selfish, and he is fickle. He has fads. He had a fad for Australian picturesqueness. He fell in love with Ina because she is Aus-
