“I mean—­where would you like it—­stored until you can send, and have it—­taken away?”

“Well,—­I—­er—­rather thought of keeping it—­where it was if you didn’t mind.”

“I’m afraid that will be—­impossible, Mr. Bellew.”

“Why then the barn will be an excellent place for it, I don’t suppose the rats and mice will do it any real harm, and as for the damp, and the dust—­”

“Oh! you know what I mean!” exclaimed Anthea, beginning to tap the floor impatiently with her foot.  “Of course we can’t go on using the things now that they are your property, it—­wouldn’t be—­right.”

“Very well,” he nodded, his fingers questing anxiously after the rose again, “I’ll get Adam to help me to shift it all into the barn, to-morrow morning.”

“Will you please be serious, Mr. Bellew!”

“As an owl!” he nodded.

“Why then—­of course you will be leaving Dapplemere soon, and I should like to know exactly when, so that I can—­make the necessary arrangements.”

“But you see, I am not leaving Dapplemere soon or even thinking of it.”

“Not?” she repeated, glancing up at him in swift surprise.

“Not until—­you bid me.”

“I?”

“You!”

“But I—­I understood that you—­intend to—­settle down?”

“Certainly!” nodded Bellew, transferring his pipe to another pocket altogether, lest it should damage the rose’s tender petals.  “To settle down has lately become the—­er—­ambition of my life.”

“Then pray,” said Anthea, taking up a sheet of music, and beginning to study it with attentive eyes, “be so good as to tell me—­what you mean.”

“That necessarily brings us back to the moon again,” answered Bellew.

“The moon?”

“The moon!”

“But what in the world has the moon to do with your furniture?” she demanded, her foot beginning to tap again.

“Everything!—­I bought that furniture with—­er—­with one eye on the moon, as it were,—­consequently the furniture, the moon, and I, are bound indissolubly together.”

“You are pleased to talk in riddles, to-night, and really, Mr. Bellew, I have no time to waste over them, so, if you will excuse me—­”

“Thank you for playing to me,” he said, as he held the door open for her.

“I played because I—­I felt like it, Mr. Bellew.”

“Nevertheless, I thank you.”

“When you make up your mind about—­the furniture,—­please let me know.”

“When the moon is at the full, yes.”

“Can it be possible that you are still harping on the wild words of poor old Nannie?” she exclaimed, and once more, she curled her lip at him.

“Nannie is very old, I’ll admit,” he nodded, “but surely you remember that we proved her right in one particular,—­I mean about the Tiger Mark, you know.”

Now, when he said this, for no apparent reason, the eyes that had hitherto been looking into his, proud and scornful,—­wavered, and were hidden under their long, thick lashes; the colour flamed in her cheeks, and, without another word, she was gone.