"It is time we were making tracks. What do you say, Short?"
"I suppose so, but it is always hard to tear oneself away from pleasant companions."
"When shall we meet again?" asks Eleanor gaily. "Can't we arrange a day next week? Ride over in the cool of the morning to breakfast."
"Thanks—delighted. There is a peculiar fascination in your charming home and hearty welcome."
Quinton smiles enigmatically, as he watches them ride away.
Eleanor slips her hand in his.
"You seem very merry to-day," she says. "They quite enlivened us, didn't they, Carol?"
"Yes; it certainly makes a difference having somebody to speak to. Don't you notice it, dear?"
He looks down at her steadfastly, and for the moment Eleanor's expression turns the unscrupulous man dizzy with a vague sensation nearly approaching regret.
He sees in her eyes the overflowing of a heart; whose passionate adoration amounts to idolatry.