The Way of an Eagle

by Ethel M. Dell

Of sympathy for her recent bereavement, however, he said no word whatever. He only held her hand.

"There's poor old Will," he said: "I spent the night with him on my way down. He's beastly homesick—sent all sorts of messages to you. You'll be going out in the winter?"

"It depends," said Daisy.

"He's breaking his heart for you, like a silly ass," said Nick. "How long has Muriel been engaged to Grange?"

Daisy started at the sudden question.

"It's all right," Nick assured her. "I'm not a bit savage. It'll be a little experience for her. When did it begin?"

Daisy hesitated. "Some weeks ago now."

Nick nodded. "Exactly. As soon as she heard I was coming. Funny of her. And what of Grange? Is he smitten?"

Daisy flushed painfully, and tried to laugh. "Don't be so cold-blooded, Nick. Of course he—he's fond of her."

"Oh, he—he's fond of her, is he?" said Nick. He looked at her suddenly, and laughed with clenched teeth. "I'm infernally rude, I know. But why put it in that way? Should you say I was 'fond' of her?"