Vane groaned. "Your sins be upon your own head," he remarked. "I've already had one serious dissertation this morning from old John, who used to be lodgekeeper at Rumfold."
"I know him well," cried the girl. "A dear old man. . . ."
"Who shares your views on the land question," said Vane with a smile.
She stopped and faced him. "Don't you?" she demanded quietly.
"In your own words, Joan—I am a very serious young man; and I am seeking for knowledge."
For a moment she seemed about to reply, and then, with a short laugh, she turned on her heel and walked on. It was just as they were entering the drawing-room that she looked at him over her shoulder. "I hope your search will be successful," she remarked; "and I hope still more that when it is successful you won't commit suicide. To have knowledge, to know to-day what is the truth, would be, I think, the most terrible burden any man could bear. Have you ever thought how tired God must be?"
Before he could answer she was shouting down her aunt's ear-trumpet. And Vane was left wondering at the strange mixture which went to make up Joan Devereux.
* * * * *
Sir James was cordially delighted to see him, especially when he discovered that Vane knew Mr. Trent.
"Where's the little girl?" he asked as they eat down to luncheon.
"Margaret was her name, I think."